


Pieces of the Whole

by Shaicarus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Choking, Compilation of Oneshots, Depression, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Finger Sucking, First time hand hobs, Forced Kissing, Gen, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Omen Noct - Freeform, Panic Attack, Sex Dream, Shower Sex, Unwilling kissing, but it's in an AU, but only briefly, canon blind character, dissociation? kind of?, implied canonical character death, noct is a little shit but we all love him, revival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:12:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 31,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaicarus/pseuds/Shaicarus
Summary: ”If he falls and dies, who gets his stuff?”“Ignis gets the kingdom. Prompto gets everything else.”“What about me?”“You sound too eager, so you don’t get shit.”--A collection of drabbles and oneshots





	1. gen fic

**Author's Note:**

> So, I roleplay Noct on tumblr. It's fun. And with reasonable frequency, I take drabble requests. I'm compiling a bunch of them here.
> 
> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noct, Ignis  
> Rating: G  
> Prompt: Trick Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character tricking your character.

Boredom, when one is seventeen, used to getting his way, and more than slightly spoiled, is a perilous thing.

It started when he accidentally passed out on Ignis’s couch for the entire night. (Presumably, Ignis tried to wake him up at some point, but Noctis was very good at sleeping.) By the time he woke up, Ignis had left and there was a note on the table about breakfast.

(It was signed with ‘ _Do you have any idea how loud you snore? It’s loud. See a doctor. - Ignis’)_

After he ate, Noct supposed he could have just _left_. But where would be the fun in that?

*

Noct answered the phone with a casual, “Specs.”

A sigh was the reply. “ _Noct, what did you do with my coffee?”_

Noct darted a glance towards the bag by his door. “No idea what you’re talking about. I’m not really a coffee drinker.”

“ _Of course._ ” He could practically hear the eye roll. “ _Any ideas as to who flipped everything in the kitchen upside down, then?”_

“Sounds like a real puzzle, Specky.”

“ _And surely you have a guess at where everything in the bathroom went.”_

“Goblins, definitely.” Very helpfully, he added, “I hear they like broom closets.”

Silence, for a moment. “ _Noct?_ ”

“Hmmmm?”

“ _I’m hanging up now._ ”


	2. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Prompto, Noctis  
> Rating: Pg-13  
> Prompt: Call Me: I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours

Noctis paced, one hand idly twisting the hood cord of his hoodie around two fingers, the other hand holding his cell phone to his ear. “Come on, come on,” he grumbled to himself. “Pick up.”

Finally, the phone clicked. “ _Prince-y pants!”_

“You forgot me at the subway station,” Noct informed him without any preamble. “It’s getting dark and I’m getting cold.”

There was a very long, very loud silence, followed at last by a _very_  emphatic, “ _Shit!”_

“I’m telling Ignis,” Noct added helpfully, twirling the hood cord through the air.

“ _I don’t wanna die!”_ Prompto all but wailed in return.

“He’ll probably just smack you with his day planner,” Noct soothed, as he ducked out of the way of a gaggle of teenagers.

“ _That thing has its own area code. I will die.”_

 _“_ So come back and get me, and maybe I’ll show mercy.” There was a beat. “Seriously, hurry up. It smells weird here.”

“ _Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’. Sit tight.”_


	3. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noct, Prompto, Ignis, Gladio  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Prompt: things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

“Hurry up already!”

“Dude! You gotta hold still.”

“You try to stand on a two inch balance beam and _hold still_.”

“Iggy could do it!”

“Iggy’s an outlier. He doesn’t count.”

(”Or you’re just coming up with excuses.”

“No one asked you, Specs.”)

(”If he falls and dies, who gets his stuff?”

“Ignis gets the kingdom. Prompto gets everything else.”

“What about _me_?”

“You sound too eager, so you don’t get shit.”)

“Just stop wobbling already!”

“Then hurry the fuck up!”

Noctis continued wobbling precariously on the railing, hands out to his sides for balance, as Prompto lined up the shot with exaggerated care. Finally, there was a split second where Noct was perfectly still, arms outstretched and the lights and decorations of the carnival spreading out behind him. Prompto took the shot.

“Finally!” Noct flailed a hand out, caught Ignis’s shoulder, and hopped down from the railing. He reached towards Prompto with his other hand, making expectant grabby motions. “Give it here.”

“Hmmm…” Prompto tapped his chin with one finger. “Nope!” With a whoop, he held the camera aloft over his head and bolted down the street.

“Wha–get back here!” Noct tore after him.

Following at a more sedate pace, Ignis wondered, “Do you suppose those child harnesses come in a size large?”

Granted, they were easy enough to keep track of. Just follow Prompto’s shouting once the fireworks began.


	4. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanation: one of the people I roleplay with plays Noct's twin sister, Nisha. Twenty years on and they still aren't actually sure who's older.
> 
> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noct, Original character  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: 'try to make me cry'

“We never did figure out who was the actual heir,” Noctis mused, staring at the Crystal. They couldn’t even trust the Ring to tell them; both of them could wear it, and it did different things. Neither of those things involved them bursting into flames.

( _Noctis donned the ring, and his eyes glowed a deep and haunted red as he quite literally sucked the life out of the monsters crowding around them._

 _Nisha slipped the ring onto her finger, and Noctis crowded close as the air in front of them ripped open, drawing creatures through and into **somewhere else** like the sky itself had decided to devour them._ )

“We could both touch it,” Nisha suggested. “See which one it reacts to.”

“I guess,” Noctis mused. “Go check on the others? I’ll make sure nothing _else_ tries to kidnap this thing.” He waved halfheartedly at the Crystal.

Nisha sighed, but turned and began to make her way back in the direction they had come from. “Yeah, yeah. Holler if someone tries to kidnap it. And I guess if something tries to kidnap you, but that’s optional.”

Noctis flipped her off over his shoulder.

He waited until her footsteps faded before he placed his hand against the Crystal.

It was cold inside. And lonely, for Bahamut’s voice grated more than it soothed, and his presence was only fleeting. But just as Nisha had always done her best to keep Noctis safe, so too had he always done his best to protect his sister. Sometimes the cost was just a little higher than others. But it had to be worth it, in the end.


	5. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noct, Ignis  
> Warning: Noct is a sad drunk  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Prompt: things you said when you were drunk

Ignis finds him behind the diner, sitting on the ground and partially hidden behind a crate and  ~~smashed off of his ass~~ more than slightly tipsy on half a bottle of cooking wine. Even on the ground as he is, he’s wobbling slightly. Pulling the bottle from his hand is a simple task, and Ignis sets it down well out of reach.

“You’re in a state,” he observes blandly.

“Oh, piss off, Specs,” Noctis grumbles towards the ground, drawing his knees in towards his chest. “Go babysit someone else.”

There’s a slight narrowing of his eyes and a flaring of his nostrils, but Ignis’s irritation is otherwise kept close to his chest. “Your Highness–”

“’s’it need to be an order?” Noctis snaps, glaring upwards through his bangs. “At his royal highness’s behest,” he begins, adopting an accent that is probably supposed to mimic Ignis’s, until his eyes narrow and his voice sharpens, “ _kindly fuck off_.” He reaches out and shoves, hand landing around knee height. Ignis stumbles back a step, and then promptly lands on his ass in the gravel.

“ _Noctis_ ,” he scolds, but he doesn’t make it much further than that, because Noctis is looking at him like a puppy that’s just leaked on the rug, his eyes wide and his hands over his mouth.

“I-I–I’m sorry, I didn’t–” Words are not the prince’s strong point at the moment. His breath shudders out and he ducks his face to hide against his knees, his arms lifting to hide his head, as if the ground will have mercy and swallow him whole if he shrinks enough and wishes with all his might. “Please just go away,” he mumbles, his voice damp.

“Noct…?” Ignis shuffles closer, one hand landing on Noctis’s shoulder, only to jerk back when Noct wrenches his shoulder away.

“Please,” he repeats lowly. “I just–…I can’t be upset when you guys are around, because you all lost just as much as me, and–” He breaks off to snort out a bitter laugh, finally lifting his head so he can lean back, too quickly, his head meeting the wall with enough force that Ignis cringes. Apparently unbothered by the impact, Noctis just tips his head back and digs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “And god, how selfish does that make me? And if Cor finds me like this he’s going to be _so disappointed_  and Specs, I _can’t_  right now.”

Ignis moves slowly, leaning back against the wall beside him and settling in. “And if we’re upset simultaneously?” he asks, before Noctis can protest any further. “It seems an even tradeoff to me.”

Slowly, Noctis nods, his hands falling away from his face. “…Yeah. ‘kay,” he agrees eventually. Ignis lifts an arm, and Noctis all but burrows into his side.


	6. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Prompto, Noct. Ignis is mentioned  
> Rating: G  
> Prompt: things you didn’t say at all

They sit side by side, their legs dangling over the edge of the haven. Ignis glances in their direction now and then, just to make sure they haven’t fallen asleep there.

Noctis tips sideways until their shoulders are pressed together, and Prompto shifts just enough get comfortable again and continues scrolling through the photos on the camera.

“Save that one,” Noct chimes in eventually. “That one can g–actually, save that one, too.”

“The camera only has so much space, dude,” Prompto reminds him.

Noct snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you a memory card in Lestallum.”

Prompto keeps scrolling. Eventually, Noctis dozes against his shoulder, and Ignis evidently deems Prompto to be an acceptable babysitter, as he makes no moves to wake the prince up.

It’s a quiet night, save for the occasional bickering between the chocobos. Eventually, Prompto sets his camera down to watch the sun finish sinking behind the hills.


	7. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Ignis, original character. Prompto and Gladio mentioned.  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: things you said when you were scared

The boat ride is quiet. Tense. Prompto and Gladio pace endlessly back and forth, though the sounds of their footsteps are masked almost entirely by the sounds of the boat, the waves, and the wind.

Nisha is sitting beside Ignis, both of them silent. She never quite managed to see eye to eye with him, never quite managed to connect with him in the same way Noct did.

“Ignis?” she wonders eventually, her hands squeezed together in her lap. He tips his head towards her slightly, but he doesn’t bother actually looking at her. No point, after all.

“What happens now?” Nisha asks quietly, staring down at her hands. “Will we see him again?”

She jumps slightly when his hand settles on her shoulder. “You know he isn’t truly gone, Nish. You’ve said as much yourself.”

Nisha lapses into silence, and her voice is hardly audible when she points out, “You didn’t answer my question.” It’s an answer she never truly gets.


	8. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noct, Prompto  
> Warnings: Drunkenness, but it's cute  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Prompt: things you said when you were drunk

They’re giggling, their arms hooked together as they walk, less out of companionship and more to make sure they both remain some semblance of upright. (And companionship, too, but it was still a slightly pragmatic gesture.)

They practically trip into the camper, jostling in the doorway for a moment before Noct clambers up the steps and falls down onto the padded bench that functions as a bottom bunk. Heedless of anything that even smells like personal space, Prompto falls down on top of him, Noct laughing breathlessly as he does. Neither of them has bothered to turn the lights on, and the camper is quiet as their laughter peters away.

Prompto folds his arms on Noct’s chest and rests his chin on them. “I can see up your nose, dude,” he observes after a moment. He wobbles as Noct sputters out a laugh.

“Then move,” he snorts, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Want me to?” Prompto wonders.

Noct flops back down flat on the bunk. “Nah.”

They fall quiet after that, for long enough that Prompto is almost dozing off. He snaps back to full wakefulness with a jolt when Noct says, “Hey, Prom?”

“Huh–wha’?”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?” Noct props himself up on one elbow again, looking down at Prompto.

“Uh, yeah?” Prompto lifts his head. “’Course. Why?”

Noct shrugs as best he can in his current position. “May as well say it. Kinda suck at it the rest of the time.”

Prompto rolls his eyes. “You do not,” he scoffs. “Or I usually get the gist, at least.”

“You’re sure?”

“Duh.”


	9. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noct, Prompto  
> Rating: G  
> Prompt: Sleep — I’ll write a drabble of my character snuggling in bed with yours.

At first, the bed has one occupant: Noctis. It makes sense. It’s his bed. He sprawls on it on his stomach, leaning on his elbows and tapping intently at his cell phone.

Eventually, the bed has an occupant and a half as Prompto sits down on the edge of the mattress, too distracted by his own phone for the moment to properly sit on the furniture.

And then Noctis’s ranger dies and their round ends, and amongst the swearing, the bed gains a proper second occupant as Prompto climbs onto it. He tips over backwards as the slightly melodramatic (but epic) death music plays, his head landing in the small of Noctis’s back.

“Sleepin’ here tonight?” Noctis asks, as the game over screen attempts to console him.

“Yup. That cool?” A new round is starting, and Prompto checks his phone’s battery life.

“Mmhm. Pizza?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”


	10. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanation: we had a thread where Prompto got hit with a berserk spell and said some pretty awful things to Noct while deliriously trying to murder him. it hangs over their heads for a while.
> 
> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto, Noctis  
> Warning: slightly dom/sub sex, but it's a dream  
> Rating: Mature  
> Prompt: Dream: My character wakes up in the middle of the night because of a dream with your character in it.

_Noct’s back hit the floor and Prompto pinned him, knees on either side of Noct’s hips and pinning the prince’s wrists to the floor on either side of his head._

_“Dude. You’re, like–really bad at hand-to-hand,” Prompto informed him, sounding honestly distraught by the revelation.  
_

_“Pretty sure we figured that out when you broke my face and gave me a concussion,” Noct returned blandly.  
_

_Prompto pouted down at him and sat down, weight settling over Noct’s hips. “Not fair, man. That was…it was a bad day. But!” He shook his head, a silent ‘back on topic.’ “I’ve seen you knock Gladio on his ass a couple times! You can’t–” He broke off at the expectant look on Noct’s face, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “…You’ve been letting me win.”_

_Ever so innocently, Noct mused thoughtfully, “You know, you never did pay me back for breaking my face. Or giving me a concussion.” He shimmied slightly on the floor, squirming until he was comfortable, and Prompto became intensely aware of their position just then. Noct’s eyebrows rose, and slowly Prompto smiled._

_“You know, you’ve got a point there,” Prompto acknowledged, his smile turning sly. “Hafta do something about that.” He shifted his weight experimentally and yes, hello, Noct was definitely alright with their current position. He arched his hips away from the ground just to make a point.  
_

_“Well, come on then,” Noct urged, eyes half-lidded, a lazy half-smile in place.  
_

_Prompto feigned a pout. “Gonna make me do all the work?”_

_“ **You** are saying sorry to **me** ,” Noct reminded him pointedly, hips shifting again until Prompto bore more weight down onto him.  
_

_“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed, leaning over him, dragging Noct’s hands over his head as he did.  
_

_Their lips met slowly. There was no hurry and it seemed pretty natural, and if the paced picked up a bit when Noct pressed one thigh upwards, well, that also seemed pretty natural._

_Prompto let go of one wrist so he could get a hand in Noct’s hair. Noct seemed more than happy to keep his hands where they were, though, restrained or no, and with a content hum his lips parted. Prompto’s fingers tightened and he tugged, and with a muffled grunt, Noct’s hips stuttered off of the floor. Prompto filed that detail away for later contemplation._

_And then a hand swatted him across the face, and–_

Prompto woke up and was only spared from flailing wildly by the fact that at some point he’d gotten tangled in his blanket. He’d also, at some point, snuggled up to Noct’s side, his erection at half-mast and digging into his royal highness’s hip.

Noct had, apparently, smacked him in his sleep.

Carefully, he started disentangling himself from both prince and blanket. He was halfway to the tent flap–

“Prom?”

He froze, turning his head to look over his shoulder slowly. Noct was sitting up on one elbow, blinking blearily and digging the heel of one hand against his eyes and oh no he was _cute_ –

“Yeah?” Prompto ignored the fact that his voice was half an octave higher than usual.

“Wuzwron’?” Noct muffled a yawn against his wrist.

“Nothing!” Prompto cleared his throat. “Gotta go take a leak.”

“’kay.” Noct nodded slowly and flopped back down, asleep before he even hit the pillow. Prompto heaved a relieved sigh and scuttled out of the tent.


	11. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto, Noct, Gladio, Ignis  
> Warnings: Implied violence, implied temporary death, very heavily implied hand job  
> Rating: Mature  
> Prompt: five times kissed

Noct threw his dagger and dissolved at the edges to follow it…at least until the mindflayer batted the dagger aside, and Noct went pinballing after it. With a yelp, he crashed into Prompto, and the two landed in a heap on the ground.

“Hey, babe,” Prompto offered cheerfully, before he kissed the back of Noct’s neck. “Long time no see.”

“You’re not funny,” Noct informed him blandly, though he turned his head to kiss the end of the gunner’s nose regardless.

“Quit necking!” Gladio barked, and with a snort of laughter, Noct flung himself back into the fray.

*

The world swam back into focus, and Prompto cracked an eye open, only to immediately squeeze it shut again with a groan. Someone needed to turn the brightness down on…everything.

A shadow fell over his face, and he cautiously tried opening his eyes again, blinking up at Noct as the prince stared down at him with concern.

“All there, Blondie?”

Prompto pawed at his face. “Shallow.”

“Yeah, you’re all there.” Noct grabbed his hands to drag him upright. Grumbling at the change in elevation, Prompto latched his hands around the back of Noct’s neck as an act of vengeance. He was sure how it was supposed to be vengeance, but it made sense at the time. Noct’s hands curled against the small of his back in turn, and for convenience’s sake, Prompto shuffled into his lap.

“Did I get hit?”

Noct hummed an affirmative. “You needed a phoenix down.”

Slowly, Prompto blinked at him, finally noting the way Noct wouldn’t actually look at his face and the way his hands were clenched against Prompto’s back.

Finally, Prompto observed, “I died.”

“Only for a sec,” Noct assured him. “And now you’re fine.”

Prompto closed the short distance between them to kiss him, slow and firm. “Yup,” he confirmed afterwards, close enough that their lips brushed. “Just fine.”

*

“This is unbecoming of your station,” Ignis huffed, ~~sulking~~ scowling down at them.

Very deliberately, Noct scratched the corner of his eye with his middle finger. “Uh huh.” He shifted slightly, the hump of the Regalia’s backseat digging into his ass.

Prompto kissed his cheek. “Aw, come on, be nice. We could at least offer to put the top up.” He tossed a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “Right, Iggy?”

Ignis’s eyes narrowed incrementally, before he turned on his heel and strolled away at a measured pace. It was about as close as they had come to getting him to throw up his hands and storm off, and they counted it as a victory.

*

“You look really worried,” Noct observed, because it was a decent distraction from the fact that his head felt like it was full of cotton and pine needles.

“You _passed out on me_!” Noct cringed, and Prompto’s volume dropped sharply. “Literally, on top of me. _Yes I’m worried.”_

“Ran outta juice,” Noct offered by way of explanation as he pushed himself up on his elbows. Prompto looked about half a second away from pushing him back down, until Noct sighed and assured him, “Not going anywhere, just sitting up.”

No sooner was he something approaching upright than he tucked himself against Prompto’s side, mumbling, “Warm,” as he all but burrowed closer.

Prompto sighed, his chin brushing the top of Noct’s head as he lamented, “Using me for my body heat.”

“Mhn.” Noct kissed his jaw, and then his neck. “Yup. Always,” he agreed, voice mellow as he got comfortable on Prompto’s shoulder.

“Aw, come on, don’t fall asleep here, I don’t wanna carry you.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

*

The rocks dug into Noct’s shoulders, his hands clenched in Prompto’s vest. Just a few feet over their heads, camp was set up on the haven.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t talk that much, you make alotta fuckin’ noise,” Prompto remarked, unfairly casual for someone who had one hand down his highness’s pants. His other hand was pressed over Noct’s mouth, at least until the prince bit him.

Yanking his hand back, Prompto pouted. “You are such a little shit,” he sulked while Noct grinned at him.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t–oh, yeah, okay just like that– _shit_ –”

“Bossy,” Prompto scoffed. “Someone’s gonna hear you.”

“That’s–your responsibility,” Noct informed him. “You–”

Prompto crushed their mouths together to shut him up.


	12. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Ignis/Noctis  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Prompt: 'like this post if you want a dirty drabble' later followed by 'it didn't turn out that dirty, sorry'

Ignis made for a nice pillow, all things considered. The camp chair probably wouldn’t hold both of them, but Noctis was content to sit between his knees, his arms folded over one of Ignis’s thighs and his chin on one forearm. Now and then Ignis petted him, like a distracted cat owner (Noctis was never going to say that out loud). And it was sort of cute, listening to Ignis reason his way through a dilemma, talking to himself as much as he was actually talking to Noctis.

But there was a little known secret: Ignis tended to _fret_. Something of a hobby, Noctis supposed. There were generally ways to break the cycle, though.

He didn’t seem to think much of it when Noctis grabbed one of his hands to hold it captive.

And then Noctis closed his lips around the uncovered thumb and sucked, and Ignis’s monologue came to an abrupt halt as Noctis dragged his tongue along the pad of his thumb.

“..I–…what…was I saying…?” Ignis managed after a moment. “Assuming you were even listening.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, thumb still caught gently between his teeth before he let it go. “I  _like_  listening to you talk,” he pointed out. “But you fixed the problem five minutes ago and have just been worrying in circles since then.”

Ignis ~~sulked~~ _scowled_  at him, but it was hard to take it personally when his hand was in Noctis’s hair again. “I’m not ‘worrying in circles.’”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m _not_.”

“Of course.” Noct sat up on his knees, so he could curl his hands around Ignis’s suspenders and tug him down for a proper kiss. He nipped Ignis’s lip as he leaned away again, and offered, “Triangles, then,” with a crooked smile.

Ignis flicked his ear.

“Trapezoids?”

“At last check, we haven’t had to do geometry in years.”

“No,” Noctis agreed. “Gymnastics is more your thing now.”

Ignis choked. “ _Noct_.”

“What?” Noctis was the picture of innocence. “I’m not complaining.” He looped his hands together behind Ignis’s neck, one thumb dragging idly through the short hair at his nape. Slowly, the line of tension there began to melt. “You’re very bendy. It’s fun.”

“You’re insufferable,” Ignis informed him. Somehow, he managed to make it sound fond.

“Mmhm,” Noctis hummed in agreement. “But you love me.”

“Clearly, I’m a bit touched in the head.”

“Eh, you fit in.”

Ignis cleared his throat to cover a laugh. “A ringing endorsement, to be sure.”

“Duh,” Noctis scoffed. “What were you worrying about, anyway?”

“Sorry?”

“Nah, nothing. Never mind.” Noctis gave the chair a glance. “You sure it wouldn’t hold both of us?”

“Positive.”

“Damn.”


	13. au gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explanation: one of my AUs involves Noct getting possessed and basically being Omen Noct while the guys look for a cure
> 
> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Prompto, Omen Noct  
> Warnings: heavy handed emotional manipulation  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Prompt: 'I wanna make Prompto-mun sad'

Prompto wakes up in the middle of the night when he hears the floor creaking. He lifts his head from his pillow and stares into the semi-darkness of the motel room. Placidly, glowing gold eyes stare back at him, only marginally brighter than the chains that bind their owner.

“You, uh–” Prompto clears his throat. “You gonna sleep some time tonight?”

Slowly, the person wearing Noct’s face tips his head to one side, considering the question. “Nah,” he decides after a moment, though he does take a seat on the edge of the bed, the creaking of his pacing falling silent. “I’m good.” With a huff, he adds, “ _Tried_  talking to Specs for a while, but he seemed uncomfortable. Gladio threatened to tape my mouth shut.”

“Not a bad idea,” Prompto mumbles, mostly to himself.

Noct melts sideways, his shoulder colliding companionably with Prompto’s. “Aw, come on, man. Lighten up. You want me to remember that _I_  made you so unhappy?”

Prompto squirms aside, away from the familiar weight that suddenly seemed oppressive. “Shut up, or I _swear_ –”

“Gonna shoot me again?” he asks, sliding Prompto a sly, sidelong glance. “You can try, if you really wanna. Might help, since we know you’re not enough to fix me on your own.”

He laughs as Prompto shoves him onto the floor. “Sleep tight. I’ll still be here in the morning.”


	14. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto/Noct  
> Warning: slightly dom/sub shower sex  
> Rating: Mature  
> Prompt: 'like this post if you want a dirty drabble'

The shower in the caravan had not really been designed for an adult man. It was tiny. The water pressure fluctuated. It kept getting cold and even when it heated back up it wasn’t particularly warm. Even so, it might have been the best thing Noctis had ever experience.

Yes, even with the draft from Prompto standing in the door of the caravan's tiny bathroom. He had even pulled the shower curtain back open, as if Noctis was going to disappear again as soon as he was out of sight.

Noctis supposed he couldn’t blame him.

At first, they were both silent. It was as Noctis was rinsing off for the third time, when the soap had stopped rinsing away as grey foam and the water was clear, as Prompto watched the lather trail down Noctis’s back, between his shoulders, that Prompto finally observed, “Man, you grew up well.”

“Did I?” Noctis wondered, ducking his head under the spray again. “Haven’t seen a mirror yet. And this kind of itches?” He scratched his chin as he said it.

“I can show you what it’s actually good for later,” Prompto assured him pleasantly.

Noctis rolled his eyes at the wall in front of him. “Noted. You know you’re not gonna fit in here, right?” The last was added as an afterthought as he looked over his shoulder to see Prompto shedding his clothes.

Prompto scoffed. “Givin’ up on me already?”

One eyebrow rose and Noctis very deliberately turned away. Prompto’s eyes narrowed slowly.

_Well, excuse me, princess._

Noctis grunted as his front met the wall of the shower as Prompto’s weight collided with his back, but he was grinning as he turned his head so his face wasn’t pressed against the wall.

“Y’see?” Prompto curled his arms around Noctis’s middle contently. “We fit just fine.”

“Not cramped at all,” Noctis agreed wryly, reaching back with one hand to squeeze Prompto’s hip. Prompto blew a raspberry against the back of Noctis’s neck in protest, cackling as the king yelped and bristled like an offended alley cat.

“Nope~!” he practically sang, seizing Noctis’s left wrist and pressing it to the wall before he could squirm to freedom. Noctis, try as he might, could not actually battle his grin away out of sheer force of will and gave up trying as Prompto’s other hand began to wander down his abs with a purpose before curling around his cock.

Truth be told, it was not their most graceful attempt, too hasty and too clumsy. They had no condoms or lube, and they settled for Prompto’s cock slipping between Noctis’s thighs. Considering the tight quarters and that both of his hands were busy, Prompto was pretty sure the only reason he didn’t fall over was because of Noctis’s right hand still clenched against his hip for some sense of balance.

Neither of them lasted particularly long. It had been… _a while_. Noctis’s right hand dropped back to his side, catching Prompto’s hand before he could retract it entirely and squeezing his fingers.

For a moment afterwards, neither of them moved further than that despite the cold water, until Prompto kissed the back of Noctis’s neck and let his forehead bump against sodden black hair.

Noctis leaned his forehead against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. His pinned hand closed into a fist until his nails dug into his palm. He’d forgotten, for a little while, everything he still needed to tell them.

“…Noct?” Prompto questioned, his voice small and worried. Noctis straightened up with a startled jerk, shaking his head minutely. Prompto nosed at his ear.

“I’m fine,” Noctis replied, followed by, “I mean, it’s not you. I…I’ll explain it later, so I don’t need to repeat it.”

“Right. ‘kay,” Prompto agreed slowly, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. He wound his arms around Noctis’s middle again and started backing up. “C’mon. The water’s freezing.”


	15. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto, Noct, Ignis, Gladio, others mentioned  
> Warnings: blow job, briefly implied intrusive thoughts, also this thing made three people cry so I'm gonna assume it's kinda sad. also includes a really bad knock knock joke pun.  
> Rating: Mature  
> Prompt: five times kissed

“Oh, and this one. You remember this one? Ah, ‘course you do.” Prompto smiles fondly at the photo. Forever immortalized on glossy paper, Noct is teetering backwards, standing on Dynamite’s saddle. The bird disagrees with being used as a step stool, though, and is reaching back to pull Noct off by the back of his coat.

The next photo is from immediately afterwards, Noct sitting on his ass in the grass while Gladio nearly strangles himself on his own laughter behind him.

Prompto sets them down on the slightly overgrown grass and tips his head back to watch the sky. This far out of town, the view is always incredible.

“Can’t forget this, either,” he carries on eventually, rifling another photo out of the bundle.

It’s just them. Prompto’s holding the camera out at arm’s length, his other arm around Noct’s back, and Noct is grinning with his face buried against Prompto’s neck. Prompto would be smiling, but it looks like he caught himself mid-sentence. It’s cuter than it has any right to be.

“ _Noct! Noct, c’mere! Noct-noct, who’s there? You, getting your ass over here!”_

_“Alright, already, calm your ass down.”  
_

_Noct lopes over, and he puts up with it good-naturedly as Prompto slings an arm around him to reel him in. He holds the camera out, and Noct makes a noise that is most definitely a startled squeak as Prompto turns to kiss him. Noct jerks back out of reflex, ducking his head against Prompto’s neck just as Prompto protests, “Hey!” and the flash goes off._

_Noct makes it up to him a moment later, when the camera is lowered and he threads a hand into Prompto’s hair to turn his head and kiss him properly._

He rifles through the photos once again, eyes brightening on a specific one. “Oh, right! Almost forgot about this one. Damn, this one’s old and holy shit were we drunk.”

The picture’s blurry, and the edge of Gladio’s finger is visible on one side. In the middle–a bit too dead center to be aesthetically pleasing, but oh well–Noct and Prompto are pressed together, Prompto’s chest to Noct’s back. His hands are wrapped around Noct’s hips, and though the details are lost in the multicolored lights, they’re kissing over Noct’s shoulder.

“ _C’mon!” Noct is red in the face and drunk enough that he’s actually having a good time despite the crowd. He wraps both hands around one of Prompto’s and gives him an expectant tug. “You dragged me here, you’re damn well going to dance with me,” he commands, his tone drunkenly imperious._

_“Yeah, I gotcha.” Prompto turns just long enough to shove his camera into Ignis’s steady, sober, designated driver hands. “Here, babysit this.” With that, he lets Noct haul him onto the floor.  
_

_The music is all bass and between the drink, the crowd, and the lights, neither of them is particularly coordinated, but they find the rhythm soon enough, fitting together like puzzle pieces. Noct reaches up and back eventually, fingers curling around the back of Prompto’s head and giving him an expectant tug._

_Prompto follows the command easily, tipping his head forward as Noct turns. The kiss is wet and lazy, and they don’t notice the camera’s flash go off. It’s only once they’ve separated slightly that Noct observes, “Gladio’s got your camera.”_

_“_ Bastard got fingerprints all over it,” Prompto sulks, as he carries on sifting through the photos. There’s one of Gladio doing pushups while Ignis sits on his back and calmly drinks coffee. One of Prompto and Ignis, after the former hooked an arm around the reluctantly amused latter and dragged him into frame. Gladio and Noct, elbows locked together and backs together, Noct kicking at the air as Gladio leans forward.

“Ooooh, right,” Prompto nearly purrs as he stops on another picture. “Man, you should’ve let me do this more often.”

There’s Noct, naked as a jay bird and kneeling on the ground between Prompto’s knees. He has one arm draped casually over one of Prompto’s thighs, delicately swiping his other hand across his mouth as he looks up through his bangs, one eyebrow arched pointedly.

“ _Seriously?” Noct sighs as the flash goes off, but he’s fighting a smile. He licks his fingers clean and drapes his arm over Prompto’s thigh to join his other arm. He leans his chin on his forearms. “Do I look pretty, Prompto?” he asks, his tone breathy and simpering, mischief clear._

_“You always look pretty,” Prompto reminds him, ruffling his hair and giving it a tug. Noct’s face reddens and his eyes dart off to one side and really, as paradoxical as it is, Prompto will always love how Noct can deep throat him without blinking but still blows a gasket as soon as he’s called pretty.  
_

_“Yeah, well.” Noct huffs and sits up on his knees, and Prompto dutifully leans down to kiss him. Noct nips at his lower lip afterwards. “You, too.” They’re close enough still that their noses are brushing. “Also? More pineapple.”  
_

_Laughing, Noct ducks before Prompto can wallop him upside the head with a pillow._

The pictures after that are…less bright, in many ways. Gladio and Noct, studiously ignoring each other across a campfire. Ignis sitting on a train bench, head down and cane clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Gladio leading Ignis by the hand through the rubble of Altissia, Ignis’s eyes still bandaged.

But there are still a few lights in the darkness.

Noct leaning on his elbows on a train station railing, backwards, so he can look at the dark sky, while Ignis stands beside him, smile barely perceptible as he listens to Noct ramble. A long view of the train, taken while sitting on Gladio’s shoulders. Gladio crouching while a girl who can’t be older than four inspects one arm of his tattoo.

There’s Noct, sitting on the railing while he waits for the conductor to announce that it’s time to board, staring into the distance like he’s a thousand miles away.

_He doesn’t even react as the flash goes off, and Prompto lets his camera go to dangle from his neck as he joins Noct at the railing. He slips his arms around the prince’s middle and nestles his chin against Noct’s arm._

_Noct stirs slowly, like he’s coming out of a dream. He glances downwards, past the railing he’s sitting on. “Long way down,” he observes eventually, his voice far away and hazy. Prompto’s grip around his middle tightens, and with a huff of laughter, Noct ruffles his hair. “Relax.”_

_“Nah, I’m good,” Prompto returns. Noct doesn’t argue as Prompto begins backing up, pulling him down from the railing and setting him on his feet. He still leans against the railing afterwards, but with his feet on the ground and his shoulders gradually loosening as Prompto drags his hand up and down Noct’s back.  
_

_“Hey.”  
_

_Noct turns his head with a questioning hum, and he closes his eyes and practically melts as Prompto kisses him._

_“You okay?” Noct asks him afterwards, before giving Prompto one more brief peck on the lips. Prompto sort of wants to shake him.  
_

He keeps leafing through them, but a lot of the pictures after that are ones he doesn’t particularly like to see. Things he doesn’t like to remember. There are a few, though, that still bring a smile to his face.

Aranea proudly posing beside a red giant. Iris presenting her dog tags to the camera. Cor, though his face is visible only in slivers between his fingers against the camera lens. Cindy, yelling up at Gladio as he changes one of the countless bulbs in the flood light. Ignis, standing at a kitchen counter, hands full and looking like he’s trying to command his visor to stop sliding down his nose. A rare picture of the three of them together after the lights went out, clustered together in front of Hammerhead’s garage.

There’s a shot taken from over Noct’s shoulder as he leans back against Prompto’s chest. Across the fire, Ignis is leaning out of the tent and glaring balefully while Gladio buries himself in his book and pretends none of them exist.

_Prompto is halfway through a story about Aranea’s exploits when Noct finagles him onto the ground, and Prompto is confused for a moment, until Noct sits down between his legs and leans back. After a moment, he coaxes, “Well, go on. What happened next?”_

_Prompto carries on, absentmindedly scratching a hand through Noct’s hair as he talks. His hair is longer now. Prompto sort of wonders what it would look like pulled back._

_Noct has damn near melted by the time Prompto finishes his story, completely boneless, save for the minimal effort it takes to press his head back into Prompto’s hand. When Prompto finally stops, it takes a moment for Noct to turn his head to demand an explanation. He never gets the chance, but he doesn’t seem to mind, as he leans readily into the kiss._

_Despite the awkward angle, it’s slow and lazy, and admittedly, pretty drawn out. There's a lot of time to make up for, after all. Gladio doesn’t seem to care, content to read his book and ignore them. Eventually, though, they separate as the tent flap unzips and Ignis pokes his head out, visor gone and one eye narrowed in irritation. “I can hear you.”_

_“Sounds like a you problem,” Noct deadpans without missing a beat, and honestly, there is no way Prompto can let the look on Ignis’s face go undocumented.  
_

Prompto traces a finger around the photograph’s edge and slowly looks up.

The sun is coming up over the horizon, and Prompto muffles a yawn against his fist. Slowly, he gathers the collection of photographs up and tucks them back into their envelope, and he climbs to his feet.

Turning, he crouches, presses a loud kiss to his fingers, and then taps them against the words centered on the tombstone. “G’morning, buddy,” he offers quietly, as he straightens back to his full height. “Sleep well.”


	16. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explanation: my very first thread with this Ignis was kickstarted by Noct saying something along the lines of 'when I'm dead just throw me in the trash' because he was covered in monster slime
> 
> Pairing: Ignis/Noctis  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis  
> Rating: G  
> Prompt: things you said when you were scared

“You should at least try getting some sleep.” Despite that, Ignis made no move to dislodge Noctis from his spot. Gladio and Prompto were in the tent already, and while Ignis had stayed in his chair, Noctis had wasted maybe half a second before abandoning his own to instead drop himself to the ground between Ignis’s knees.

“Does it really matter?” At some point, Noctis had taken one of Ignis’s hands captive, absentmindedly curling and straightening the gloved fingers as he stared into the fire. “It’s still gonna be night when I wake up, and I think I’ll get more than enough sleep afterwards.”

“Noct–”

“I’m not gonna pretend it’s not coming, Ignis.”

They lapsed into silence, save for the crackle of the fire and the occasional muffled murmur from the tent.

“I don’t _want_  to die,” Noctis stated eventually, voice almost lost beneath the flames. “I’m _ready_. Or…as ready as I can be. But I don’t want to.” His hold on Ignis’s fingers tightened. “What do you think’s waiting for me? Advise me, Specs.”

“I–…don’t know, Noct. I–”

“Please don’t apologize.”

Ignis huffed out a breath–maybe a laugh, sometime in a past ~~decade~~ life.  “Very well.”

Finally, Noctis peeled away from him, getting to his knees and turning so they were facing each other. His hands settled Ignis’s thighs, and Ignis’s forearms draped loosely over Noctis’s shoulders, in a movement that felt like habit.

“Just remember what we talked about.”

One hazy eye narrowed slightly. “Pardon?”

“Once I’m dead,” Noctis clarified. “ _Right_  into the trash.”

Ignis blinked once, and then a second time. And then hid his face against the king’s hair as he laughed until he wheezed.


	17. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: scars: my character will touch one of your character's scars

The campsite is quiet, save for the sound of splashing water and the occasional snapping of the monsters in the ponds. Everything smells like mud and murky water. _They_  smell like mud and murky water.

Gladio had disappeared into the tent first, followed shortly by Prompto after the silence around the campfire became too stifling and he could only scroll through the same photos so many times. And then it’s just Noctis and Ignis. Noctis sneaks furtive glances at him now and then, as he steadily picks at a loose thread in his glove to the point of fraying.

Finally, Ignis snaps, “If you’re going to say something, might I suggest you get on with it, highness?”

Noctis flinches, shrinking back into his seat. Ignis sighs, one hand jerking up as if to rub his eyes, only to pause and let his hand drop limply to his lap. “Noct, I–”

“Don’t.” Noctis folds his arms and slides down lower in his seat. “Of all of us, you’re the last one who needs to apologize for anything. Pretty sure that’s supposed to be my job.”

“…Noctis.”

The prince slides lower still in his seat. The Full First Name Treatment, huh?

“Come here.”

Reluctantly, he lurches to his feet, crosses the few steps between them, and drops to a crouch in front of Ignis’s seat. He glances briefly at his advisor’s face, before focusing on one of the glowing runes on the floor. Ignis lifts a hand, fingers groping at the air for a moment before he finds Noctis’s shoulder and then his chin and tips his face up.

“This is not your fault. Many things in life are,” he offers the barest hint of a smile, “but not this. You were across the city, fighting a dragon. Which–”

“Specs–”

“ _Which_  I will remind you is exactly where you were supposed to be. Understood?”

Noctis remains quiet.

“ _Understood_?”

“Got it,” Noctis mumbles.

Ignis’s hand drops away from his chin. Before he can rethink it–or even think it through _once_ –Noctis reaches out, fingertips ghosting over Ignis’s cheek, along the bottom edge of the scar, as if he’s double-checking that Ignis is, in fact, still there and in one piece. He yanks his hand back almost immediately. “Sorry–”

“It’s fine, Noct.”

Noctis’s jaw works for a moment, but whatever he wants to say isn’t putting itself together properly, before he makes a frustrated noise and tugs a hand through his hair. “Specs, you…you’re alright. Right? More or less, I mean?”

There’s a faintly amused hum. “Most things are in time. You know that.”

“That wasn’t a _yes_ ,” Noctis points out, but he supposes he can just ask again later. Eventually the answer will be yes.


	18. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis. Gladio mentioned  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: Fight Me: I will write a drabble out my character fighting against yours.

Ignis stands stock still, one dagger in his hand and his cane raised defensively in front of his face. He hears a shuffle ahead, going towards his left, but–no. To his right, just behind him, the metallic crunch of a blade embedding in the ground and the familiar, frosted buzz of a warp. Ignis slams his right elbow back, and Noctis stumbles back with a grunt and lands heavily on his ass, wheezing.

“Highness–?” Ignis starts to turn, until one booted foot sweeps his legs out from under him. His dagger vanishes before he can land on it, and he cringes as he comes down on his hip.

“You’re not supposed to check up on your opponent mid-battle, Ig,” Noctis reminds him fondly. Ignis reaches for his hand and finds it waiting for him, and Noctis tugs him back to his feet.

“Old habits,” Ignis sighs dryly. “Are we drawing a crowd?” he wonders, head cocked, but the station’s ambient noise is trying at the best of times.

“Nah,” Noctis returns easily. “Gladio’s right over there. Looks like he might murder anyone who stops to gawk.”

Ignis nods slowly, and his dagger appears in his hand once again. “Once more.”

“Right.”

Quiet footsteps retreat, and a moment later there is the muted ‘thump!’ of a blade landing, followed by a second in rapid succession. Daggers, then, thrown in different directions–there, towards the second one, and then towards the first, and–where is he _going_?

Something taps against Ignis’s boot and he jerks away, only to hear the sound of a rock skittering away from him. One, two, three steps towards him and he brings his dagger to bear, Noctis’s sword meeting it with a clatter. A hand wraps around his cane and tugs, until Ignis swats him with the end of it and locks the cane lengthwise across Noctis’s throat. For half a heartbeat they stand back to chest, until Noctis tips his head back and slithers downwards to a crouch.

The quiet _skroosh_  of a heel turning on the ground, and Ignis steps over the sweep that comes next, only for an elbow to lock around his knee and _pull_. He’s largely resigned to his fate by the time he hits the ground.

“It’s an improvement,” he concedes eventually, still sitting in the dust.

Noctis slumps against his shoulder companionably. “Come on, Specky. Give yourself some credit.” He’s good at giving advice he has no plans on following himself, sometimes. A habit he likely picked up from Ignis himself.

Noctis takes a breath to say something else, but he doesn’t get a chance before the conductor calls, “All boarding now!”

Tenebrae awaits, then. Time for them to be on their way.


	19. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Ignis/Noctis  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis, Prompto  
> Warnings: Semi-public blow job  
> Rating: Mature  
> Prompt: 'like this post if you want a dirty drabble'

Ignis leaned back on the kitchenette’s half wall, his weight supported on one elbow, his other hand carding slowly through Noctis’s hair.

“You’re certain–” He cut himself off as Noctis rolled his eyes. “…A commendable talent, Highness, your ability to mouth off even when your mouth is full.”

Noctis’s eyes narrowed and he began to draw back, only for Ignis’s hand in his hair to tighten. Ignis clicked his tongue once. “Is that really necessary? We already know you’re adept at nonverbal communication.”

As if to prove that point, Noctis pulled a hand away from Ignis’s hip just long enough to flip him off. Though Ignis looked rather affronted in return, before he had a chance to reply, the door to the suite opened.

“Hey, Iggy,” Prompto greeted cheerfully from the other side of the half wall, already rummaging around in the closet.

“Good evening, Prompto.” Ignis sounded remarkably casual, all things considered.

“You seen my vest? Took it off earlier, and I guess it wandered off.”

“Ah, no. Perhaps–” Noctis sank back down his advisor’s cock and swallowed, and whatever else Ignis was going to say turned into a sharp gasp.

There was silence, for a moment, and then, “Everything alright, Ig?”

“Just…something of a migraine, is all.” Well, he _had_  sounded casual. Not so much anymore. “Nothing to trouble yourself with.”

“Oh, shit. You, uh. You need anything?”

“It’s a nice thought, but just some–” He sucked in a breath as Noctis drew back again. “Just–some peace and quiet should suffice. And check the Regalia for your vest.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll get outta your hair, then. Feel better, Ig!” The door closed once more a moment later.

Ignis sagged back onto his elbow and his head tipped forward. His breath left in a stuttering sigh as Noctis hummed what was most definitely a laugh.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” Ignis sighed, trying for stern and missing the mark by about sixteen miles.

Finally, Noctis released him with a quiet pop and dragged his tongue over the head. Ignis’s hand twitched against the back of his head. “D’you want me to stop, then?”

Ignis’s fingers tightened in Noctis’s hair, and he gave the back of his head a small push. “I don’t recall saying _that_.”


	20. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Ignis/Noctis  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis  
> Warning: I've been informed this one is also rather sad. I promised to, and I quote, "rub my angsty little hands alllll over it."  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: five times kissed
> 
> despite what it looks like, I don't actually roleplay with a billion different Promptos and Ignises (Ignisi? Ignii?). but most of my drabble prompts only come from like five people, two of which are Prompto-muns and two of which are Ignis-muns

“Warm.”

Noctis burrowed closer to Ignis’s side and tucked his hands under his jacket. Ignis didn’t react at first; it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence. He continued to not react as Noctis slowly, slowly, so very slowly started untucking his shirt from his trousers.

And then he sood up ramrod straight as a pair of very cold hands were shoved up the back of his shirt. “ _Noctis.”_

“Warm,” the prince reiterated, and tucked his face against Ignis’s neck.

“Perhaps if you moved closer to the fire, you would warm up,” Ignis suggested dryly. “Just a thought.”

Noctis grunted at him and squirmed impossibly closer.

“We will not both fit in my jacket, Highness,” Ignis informed him blandly. “Regrettably.”

Noctis nuzzled against his neck.

“Highness–”

Whatever Ignis was going to say was cut off as Noctis lifted his head, stood up on his toes, and kissed him into silence, tongue leisurely invading his mouth.

Slowly, Ignis relaxed, hands curling in the small of Noctis’s back. At least until a wandering hand slipped down the back of his trousers.

“ _ **Noctis.** ”_

*

“Nope!” Noctis declared, reaching forward to grab Ignis’s shoulders before he could get out of the driver’s seat. He waited just long enough for Prompto to get out before he warped right into the front passenger seat.

Ignis was staring at him in fond bewilderment.

And then he latched onto the sides of the seat with both hands as Noctis reached over, grabbed the lever on the side of the seat, and dropped the driver’s seat back until Ignis was laying nearly flat.

Laughing at the exasperated scowl Ignis leveled at him as he leaned up on his elbows, Noctis climbed over the center console to straddle Ignis’s lap. He leaned forward, hands on Ignis’s shoulders–

Out of some sense of retribution, Ignis leaned up to kiss Noctis himself before the prince could finish closing the distance, startling a noise that was _most definitely not_  a squeak out of him.

*

“Take them off.” Noctis’s fingertips skimmed along one leg of Ignis’s sunglasses, but he made no move to pull them off beyond that. “Lemme actually see you.”

“Noct…” Ignis’s apprehension would perhaps not be noticeable to most others, but to Noctis, he may as well have been screaming it for all the passengers to hear. Noctis slid his hand back from the glasses, into Ignis’s hair, fingers dragging along his scalp until the line of tension across his shoulders eased somewhat.

Finally, Ignis pulled his glasses off. They dangled limply from his fingers until Noctis took them, folded them, and tucked them into the arsenal. Ignis had half a moment to turn his face away until Noctis tipped his chin up.

The first kiss landed on Ignis’s nose. Another on his chin. His forehead. His cheeks. Only glancingly across his mouth, until Ignis caught him by the face to drag their mouths together. His aim was off at first, their noses bumping together, but he tipped his head and threaded his fingers into Noctis’s hair.

Noctis clenched his hands on Ignis’s shoulders and gave him a slow, steady push until he laid back on the bunk and Noctis could halfway sprawl over top of him.

“Seventeen years, Ignis,” Noctis reminded him quietly, his thumb tracing lightly over the bottom of the scar. “You’ve seen me at my worst, but that means I’ve seen you at yours. You don’t need to hide from me.”

*

Noctis stepped out of the caravan to find Ignis sitting at the table, his MP3 player on the table and one earbud in his ear, the other dangling freely. He cocked his free ear towards Noctis as he approached, one corner of his mouth twitching up as the king picked up the dangling earbud to listen, only to decide the book probably wasn’t to his interests after only a few seconds.

Ignis paused the story and pulled the other bud out of his ear.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted quietly. His hands were clenched in his lap, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Don’t start with that,” Noctis scoffed, leaning his weight experimentally on the back of the chair.

“Noct,” Ignis corrected. “…What are you doing?”

“Testing.” The chair wobbled as Noctis heaved more of his weight onto it, but it held up just fine. “Where’d Gladio and Prompto run off to?”

“On the phone with Iris and maintenancing the generator, respectively. Testing _what,_ exactly?”

“Both busy, then?” Noctis mused, though he didn’t actually wait for a reply before he pulled Ignis’s hands from his lap and promptly took their place. The chair creaked under their combined weight, but it held them in the end.

Noctis pulled the visor from the bridge of Ignis’s nose and reached back to set it on the table before at last he leaned in…and pressed a kiss to the tip of Ignis’s nose. “Hi.”

One of Ignis’s eyebrows ticked upwards, and he set his hands on Noctis’s shoulders before finding the back of his neck to tug him closer.

The kiss was slow. Exploratory. It had been ten years. Only when they were both getting lightheaded did they separate, and even then only so far as to lean their foreheads together.

“Good evening, Noctis,” Ignis finally returned, smiling quietly.

*

“Which one did you pick?” Ignis asked, his voice low. Controlled.

Noctis trailed one finger around the edge of the photo. “You and I were sitting on the Regalia’s hood, and then Gladio sorta dive bombed across our laps to be a jackass, and you can only see like half of Prompto’s face. We’re laughing. Your glasses are crooked.”

“Your fault, if I recall,” Ignis added, his tone eerily blank.

“Yeah. We–” Noctis swallowed thickly. “We should probably get going.” He tucked the picture into his jacket, but he only made it a step before fingers curled around his wrist, tightening like a vice.

Noctis turned, but Ignis had hardly moved, save for his arm.

“Specs–?”

With a sudden yank, Ignis hauled Noctis in close and crushed their mouths together. Their teeth clicked before they found their bearings, and Ignis released Noctis’s wrist to instead cup his jaw with one hand, his other hand fisting in Noctis’s hair.

Ignis kissed him like he was trying to inhale him, desperate and needy, until they had to separate, chests heaving and breath mingling as Ignis’s hands fell to Noctis’s shoulders. Their foreheads pressed together for the barest moment, until Ignis’s chin wobbled and he jerked back enough to turn his face away, clenching his jaw hard enough that Noctis could practically hear his teeth creaking.

“Ten years,” he bit out eventually, as Noctis’s hands slid up his arms to his shoulders. “And all we get is a day.”

Noctis gave him a tug and Ignis moved easily, burying his face against the side of Noctis’s head, his visor getting bumped towards his hair as he did. Noctis’s hands slid farther, one to curl around the back of Ignis’s neck and the other to cup the back of his head.

“It isn’t fair.” Ignis’s voice was hardly even audible anymore. Noctis didn’t argue, and Ignis fell silent. Still as statues, they took what solace they could.

“We need to get moving,” Noctis reminded him eventually, though he made no efforts to pull away.

“A few more minutes,” Ignis bargained quietly in return. “The gods can spare you for that long, at least.”


	21. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Ignis/Noct  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis  
> Warnings: Mild orgasm denial, a lot of attention paid to Iggy's dick  
> Rating: Mature  
> Prompt: 'like this post if you want a dirty drabble' it's my sinday tradition, okay

_100…99…98…97…_

_…80…79…78…_

_“_ Seventy-seven…s-seventy-six…sev–” Ignis sucked in a breath as the tip of Noct’s tongue traveled from the base of his cock to the tip. “–enty-five…seventy-four…highness, this game is stu– _oh.”_

Noct dragged his tongue over the head of Ignis’s cock once more. “What was that?” he wondered innocently, glancing up through his lashes.

“…Seventy-three…”

_…72…71…70…_

_…57…56…55…_

_“_ Fift– _shit_ –fifty-four…fi–” Ignis’s grip on the outer rungs of the back of the chair tightened and his head fell back, throat bobbing. “Hi-ighness–Noct, I–” The noise that escaped him as Noct pulled away was distressingly close to a whine.

Noct kissed the inside of his thigh and stood up, lips finding his shoulder next. “Almost halfway there,” he pointed out, the end of his nose trailing along the side of Ignis’s neck. Noct kissed the corner of his jaw. “You can make it.” He closed his lips around one earlobe, only briefly before the tip of his tongue traced along the shell of Ignis’s ear. “Right?”

A beat. And then Ignis’s head tipped forward in something that was maybe supposed to be a nod. His glasses began sliding down his nose. Noct kissed his cheek and dropped to his knees once again. Ignis sighed out as much of a measured breath as he could before Noct’s lips closed around his cock and the prince bobbed downwards.

“Fifty–where–? Fif–fuck. Fuck it. Forty-nine.”

Noct rolled his eyes fondly.

“Forty-eight…”

… _47…46…45…_

_…30…29…28…_

_“_ Twenty-seven…twe-twenty-six–oh, god–Noct–”

Noct’s hand around his cock slowed and stopped, instead simply curling loosely around the base. Noct lifted his chin from where it rested on Ignis’s thigh, leaning forward to kiss the skin beneath his bellybutton. “Nearly there.”

Ignis’s hips jerked forward, but his hands stayed wrapped around the seat back rungs. Noct got comfortable again and resumed stroking, slowly.

“…Twenty-five…”

… _24…23…22…_

_…11…10…9…_

_“_ Eight…se-even…”

Noct lapped leisurely at the head of Ignis’s cock, one hand trailing idly up and down Ignis’s thigh.

“Six…”

Ignis had about half a second of warning. Noct grinned up at him impishly, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth before he opened his mouth. Ignis’s cock twitched as Noct’s lips closed around it, just before Noct sank down and swallowed, nose meeting curly hair.

“Oh my _god–_ fi-iiive. _”_ Ignis’s toes curled against the carpet and his grip on the chair tightened, just before he spat out in a rush, “Fourthreetwoone.” His back arched away from the chair and he made a noise he didn’t even recognize, and then the living room sort of whited out.

It took…a moment…to reorient himself after that.

He looked up slowly to see that Noct had moved back again, draped over one of Ignis’s knees and delicately swiping a thumb along the corner of his mouth before licking it clean. Ignis uncurled his fingers from the rungs of the seat back, hands falling to his side until he lifted a hand to push his glasses back up his nose.

“…This game is still stupid.”

Noct snorted out a laugh and got to his feet, cupping Ignis’s face in both hands to tip his head back and kiss him, slow and lingering. “Maybe,” he conceded afterwards, carding his fingers through Ignis’s damp hair to push it back from his forehead, “but you’ve gotta admit you had fun.”


	22. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto, Noctis  
> Warnings: Awkward, first-time-y canoodling. And by 'canoodling' I mean 'hand jobs' and 'rutting against each other'  
> Rating: Mature  
> Prompt: 'like this post and I'll write you a dirty drabble'

They were _supposed_  to be doing inappropriate things to each other. That had been the idea, at any rate, but somewhere between ‘why are there so many _flavors_?’ and various crude gestures, the plan had sort of fallen apart a bit, and they left the store sans condoms because people were looking at them like they were crazy and a manager was giving hem the stink eye.

In fairness, that was what they got for giggling like school children in the middle of the condom aisle. 

(”I’m–I’m pretty sure that’s not what it’s actually called?”

“Well it’s not _wrong_. It’s the aisle the condoms are in.”)

And so it was that they wound up back in Noct’s apartment, back on Noct’s bed, but without any condoms. A pity, Prompto supposes, but he guesses they’ll just make do.

The kissing is easy, deceptively leisurely, save for the way their hands roam. Noct’s fingers slide up Prompto’s sides, dragging along his ribs too firmly to tickle and rucking the blond’s shirt up as he goes, until with a mumbled, “’scuse me,” Prompto leans back to pull it over his head and drop it over the side of the bed. He nearly jumps out of his skin when something black flies past the corner of his eye, but it’s just Noct’s shirt, landing halfway on the floor and halfway on the desk chair.

Noct laughs quietly as Prompto pouts at him, before cupping his chin and reeling him in for another kiss. Prompto’s hands slide over his chest and past his sides, nails dragging along his back.

Noct reaches back, grabs one of Prompto’s wrists, then the other, and very purposefully drags Prompto’s hands down to his hips. One of those days, then.

(”Everything feels like static, sometimes,” Noct explained once, squirming on his back on the bed to scratch away the feel of phantom fingers from an ill-timed attempt at tickling.)

“Gotcha.” The word is hardly even a breath, their lips still brushing, and they’re kissing again as soon as he says it, lazy and relaxed. Prompto can feel Noct fumbling at the fly of his pants and he follows suit, popping the button and tugging the zipper down. His hands slip down the back of Noct’s pants to cup his ass, because his ass is basically always fair game, and it’s a fact Prompto has learned to appreciate.

And then he slips a hand down Noct’s boxers, and the princes goes still, head cocked to one side, an expression on his face like he’s not actually sure what he was expecting to happen. Prompto attempts not to snigger at him. Prompto also fails.

Rolling his eyes, Noct kisses the end of Prompto’s nose and tugs his zipper down, one hand slipping down the front of his pants. Prompto is half hard as Noct palms him through his boxers, and the noise Prompto makes is not actually anything resembling words, but could probably be translated as ‘wait what.’ It feels good, yeah, and it’s not like his dick has never been touched before, but this is _not his hand_.

Noct’s hand shifts, palm pressing more firmly, and the breath Prompto sighs out next is more appreciative.

They pause for a moment, before they slowly disentangle from each other. Their pants and boxers are soon tossed off of the bed, and they both spend a moment looking studiously anywhere but at each other, until they remember that they’re _both_  naked, the entire _idea_  was to be naked, and they had plans to _do something about it_ , even if those initial plans were no longer really valid.

…They go back to kissing, sprawled together in a lazy tangle on the bed. It’s familiar–comforting–and there’s a new sort of thrill to it, with so much bare skin against skin. Noct has one hand curled loosely along the side of Prompto’s neck, other hand sliding slowly up and down along his thigh and flank.

Prompto can feel Noct’s cock pressed against his hip, and he can grind his own against Noct’s leg if he shifts just a bit. It occurs to him then that this is actually happening, and he leans into the kiss with renewed gusto, startling a grunt out of Noct.

They rock together slowly, finding a rhythm that works largely out of trial and error, kisses growing from lazy to sloppy as they carry on. Noct insinuates a hand between them, fingers curling around Prompto’s cock, and finally the kiss breaks as he begins stroking and Prompto sucks in a breath, ducking his face against Noct’s neck. Noct turns just enough to kiss the side of Prompto’s head.

He pants quietly against Noct’s collarbone, his hips jerking in time with Noct’s hand, until he gasps in a breath as he comes, his grip on Noct’s hips tightening.

Things seem a bit…fuzzy after that, but he has enough sense still to reach between them, batting Noct’s hand away to return the favor himself, until Noct is sighing unsteadily into the crook of Prompto’s neck, one hand tightening in blond hair.

Afterwards, the urge to just turn into a boneless tangle is tempting, but Prompto knows he’s only got so long before Noct falls asleep, and thanks a bunch but they are both currently _gross_.

“Nooo,” Noct whines, as Prompto sits up and begins tugging at his arm. He slings an arm over his eyes.

“Nooooct,” Prompto returns, in much the same tone. “Come on. Shower.” He tugs at Noct’s wrist hard enough that he nearly falls off the bed, but he does at least get the prince to sit up.

Noct loops an arm around Prompto’s middle and draws him in for a kiss, only to pout as Prompto shoves a hand into his face.

“There will be plenty’a time for that in the shower,” Prompto informs him primly. With an overwrought sigh, Noct finally lets himself be towed to the bathroom.


	23. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explanation: re: Linguini, on my blog, Noct has a pet ferret. well, kind of a ferret. he's ferret shaped, but stoat sized and weirdly intelligent. he's low-key Noct's emotional support critter and probably blessed by Carbuncle. his name's Linguini. so no, he's not just dumping pasta on Prompto's head.
> 
> Characters: Noctis, Prompto, Ignis, mentions of others  
> Pairing: None  
> Warnings: A very quiet panic attack, verging on dissociation  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: 'five times tongue tied, and one time not'

Noct stares at her, eyes wide in something that can only be described as awe. She smiles at him and laughs gently as all he can manage to do is gape like a goldfish.

(Not even a pretty goldfish; more like one of those round, misshapen blobs given as prizes at carnivals.)

His dad leans down over the back of the wheelchair to ask him wryly, “Are you going to say anything, Noctis?”

He wants to say how pretty he thinks she is, but his face is warm and when he finally gets words to actually happen, all he manages is a mumbled, “H-hi.”

*

Ignis is staring at the mess of Noct’s apartment in something like horror, and it would actually be sort of funny if not for the way Noct wishes the walls could swallow him whole.

“You’re going to wind up right back in the Citadel at this rate,” Ignis grouses, and Noct nods along absently as he carries on in that vein, about the dishes and the garbage and the recycling and the laundry and _god, I get it_

He jerks back to the present when Ignis’s hand lands on his shoulder, and when he drags his gaze back to his advisor’s face, he feels a stab of guilt at how _concerned_  he looks.

“I just want to know what’s wrong.”

_dad’s dying_

_it’s the crystal_

_i’m next_

_what do i do_

_i can’t do this_

If anyone might be able to tell him how to deal with it, it would be Ignis, but he can’t say it, _don’t make it real–_

“God, Specs, I’m not actually on the market for a new mom.”

Ignis recoils slightly, snatching his hand back, though surprise makes way for anger. With a noise of disgust, he turns away, muttering, “Why am I _bothering_?”

Noct wanders out of the room.

*

Prompto has been quiet all day. Noct isn’t sure what’s going on. He tried _asking_ , obviously–”What’s wrong?”–but all Prompto did was laugh and wave it off, and there’s a thin line between concern and nagging that Noct isn’t that keen on crossing if he doesn’t have to.

Either way, it means he doesn’t actually know how to fix whatever the problem is (assuming it’s something he would be able to fix, which he guesses is pretty arrogant, but with status comes perks).

Prompto doesn’t talk much at school. Everything at the arcade afterward seems sort of halfhearted, and it’s not that long before they wind up back at Noct’s apartment.

He could just say ‘ _it’s going to be alright’_ since it would probably be the appropriate thing to say, but he doesn’t know what’s _wrong_  so how is he supposed to know _that_?

He dumps Linguini on Prompto’s head and settles for building a couch fort around them. It gets a laugh, at least.

*

Someone is speaking, but Noctis can’t even remember the guy’s name. He’s trying to take notes on what’s being said, and he sort of has the gist of it, maybe, but he can’t separate what’s actually relevant from the posturing and the pomp and the decoration, and even still, he can’t separate the decoration from the attempts to make a bad idea sound like a good one. His notes are disjointed, and an entire half a page has been messily scrawled out because it’s all _useless–_

Clarus’s hand is on his shoulder, and he looks up. The Council is watching him. His heart pounds in his throat and his grip on his pen is white-knuckled, and he swears his vision is tunneling because of _course_  he has to be so melodramatic.

He’s not even sure what the question was, buried under eighteen layers of circle-speak, and why doesn’t anyone just say what they _mean?_

He clears his throat.

“No comment.”

There’s some disgruntled muttering, but he adds nothing to his lack of statement, instead calmly closing his notebook to set it on his lap, because it’s doing him no good, because he should know how to do this but he _doesn’t_ and he shouldn’t have expected to be able to figure it out.

He picks a spot on the opposite wall and stares at it, gaze unfocused, until the meeting is adjourned and he can flee at a very measured pace.

*

“Your Highness!”

Noctis slows to a halt and looks over his shoulder at his father and Drautos, and for a moment the air seems to vibrate with the tension of things left unsaid.

_Just ask what’s going on. Ask what he’s not telling you. Ask why Niflheim wants any of this. Ask for **anything**  that he isn’t telling you; there’s **so much**._

_Or save it for later._

_Just tell him you’ll see him after the wedding._

He sighs.

 _“_ What _now_?”

*

“I’m gonna puke.”

“You are not,” Ignis assures him, though Noctis isn’t actually listening to him, instead following his thoughts down the rabbit hole of all the myriad ways this could go wrong, because he _needs_  the secretary to trust him and he has no idea how to do that, he couldn’t even pay attention to his father’s council and they _knew_ him and the secretary doesn’t know him from a hole in a wall–

Ignis grabs his shoulders and gives him a jostle, wrenching him back to the present. “Breathe, Noct.”

_in two three, out two three_

“You can do this.” Ignis turns him around to face the door. “Remember what we discussed.”

He nods stiffly and goes through the door.

_time to make dad proud._

_hopefully_

Afterwards, he can barely even remember what he said, but she compared him to his father. He wants to believe that’s a good thing.

“Weeeellllll?” Prompto asks expectantly, draping over Noctis’s shoulders and jerking him out of his thoughts. “Tell us the good news.”

He smiles crookedly. “She’s honored to help us. And I kiiiinda volunteered you guys for civilian protection detail.”


	24. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noctis, Prompto, Ignis, Gladio  
> Warnings: Injuries, brief mentions of blood  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Prompt: 'five times physically injured'

It was basically any other day…until the teapot tipped over into Noctis’s lap. And then Noctis was crying and wailing, and Ignis was fussing over him, which mostly consisted of petting his hair and making shushing noises at him and it wasn’t really doing any good and the nanny had stepped out for just a minute and probably expected Ignis to keep an eye on things but honestly he was only six and then _Ignis_  was crying, and Noctis was just crying even louder after that, because if _Ignis_  was crying then things had to be really bad, didn’t they, and he was three and his sense of logic was not the most evolved and the teapot had been really hot and why was Ignis crying?

The nanny seemed slightly confused when she got back from the powder room.

*

With an overwrought groan, Noctis sat down on the ground and rubbed the back of his head. “ _What was that for?”_ he demanded, scowling upwards.

“You weren’t paying attention,” Gladio informed him blandly, leaning his practice sword against his shoulder. “That’s gonna get you killed eventually. Now come on, get up. I didn’t hit you _that_  hard.”

“I’m gonna tell Iggy,” Noctis grumbled, and he stayed right where he was on the ground.

“Terrifying,” Gladio deadpanned, before he reached down to drag the prince back to his feet by his elbow. “Up an’ at ‘em, kid.”

Noctis swayed for a moment, and sank right back down to the ground.

“…Huh.” Gladio leaned the tip of the practice sword on the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright, _maybe_  I hit you harder than I thought.”

“Iggy’s gonna tell my dad.”

The look of slow-dawning horror the statement earned almost made it worth it.

*

Prompto was dithering. Noctis could tell because Prompto was dithering from roughly _four inches away_ as Noctis tipped his head forward while his nose bled profusely into a wad of paper napkins.

“I am so sorry!” For the seventh time. Possibly the eighth. Noctis had sort of lost count. “It was an accident, I swear, I–”

“Probto. Stobbit.”

Prompto’s mouth closed with an audible click and a distraught whine, and he wrung his hands together. It wasn’t a big deal, really. He had opened the restaurant door. He just…happened to open it straight into Noctis’s face.

“Go ged the food. They called our order.” He lacked a certain amount of gravitas, which his voice all clogged. Not ideal.

“Right! Got it! Going!” Prompto all but scurried away.

*

Shield; deflect. Crossbow; headshot, one down. Greatsword; sever it in two, two down, four more to go, six more already down. He spared a moment to check on Prompto. He still looked more like a feral wolverine than was really typical, crouched in front of Gladio and Ignis while they roused from a pair of phoenix down feathers.

It was an unneeded distraction, and a bullet ripped through Noctis’s shoulder. He didn’t feel it yet. He threw the Star and smashed into the MT with all the force of a freight train.

It wasn’t until afterwards, when his feet were firmly settled on the ground again, Gladio and Ignis were back on their feet, Prompto was lamenting his ammunition situation, and all of the MTs were dead, that Noctis observed, “I think I’m bleeding.” He peered at his shoulder, and blinked slowly when he realized he could kind of see _through_  it.

The world felt considerably more wobbly than it did a moment ago, and he accepted the potion Gladio handed him without arguing.

*

“Quite alright?”

Noctis jerked at the sound of Ignis’s voice, dragging his gaze away from his hand and the blood dripping off his fingers. “Yeah, fine. Accidentally grabbed some broken glass.”

Ignis reached a hand towards him. “May I?”

Noctis snorted. “Not like there’s gonna be time for infection to set in, Specs.”

Ignis’s expression remained carefully, pleasantly neutral, one hand still reaching towards him. “Humor me, Your Majesty.”

Noctis sighed slowly and offered his hand.


	25. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explanation: the song being alluded to in the beginning is I Feel It Coming because Prompto serenaded Noct with it before their first kiss
> 
> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto, Noctis, Ignis  
> Warnings: Some over excited petting. A depressive episode.  
> Rating: T  
> Prompt: five times kissed
> 
> I'm really fond of the last few lines of this one.

If Noct even knows Prompto is there yet, he hasn’t shown any indication of it. Instead, he’s digging through his desk. Whatever he’s looking for is a mystery, but he’s very intent on it.

He’s humming as he searches. A familiar song, actually, and Prompto can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. He pushes himself away from the doorway and crosses the short distance, wrapping his arms around Noct’s middle from behind.

“That’s a nice song,” he offers playfully, resting his chin on one of Noct’s shoulders.

Noct turns his head so his temple bump’s Prompto’s, and he offers a wry, crooked smile. “Oh, you know that one?”

“A few lines of it.” Prompto plants a kiss against Noct’s cheek and nestle’s his chin more comfortably against the prince’s shoulder. “Whatcha lookin’ for?”

*

They have their own room at the Quay. It takes them perhaps fourteen seconds to realize that, process it, and then tumblr down onto the bed in a tangle of too-eager limbs, tugging at shirts and jackets and kicking shoes off.

“Alright, alright,” Noct laughs after a moment, sitting up on his knees, planted on the mattress on either side of Prompto’s thighs. “Hold on.”

He shrugs out of his jacket and lets it fall to the floor, but he doesn’t get a chance to go any further than that, as Prompto abruptly sits up, sealing their lips together clumsily. Noct grunts in surprise and grabs the edges of Prompto’s vest so he doesn’t fall backwards off of the bed.

They’re enthusiastic about their privacy for the night, if nothing else.

*

“Stop wiggling so much.”

“I can’t help it! Your fingers are ice cubes!”

Noct shoves his hands up Prompto’s shirt in retaliation, just to make him squeal.

“Boys,” Ignis sighs, as if he is truly the most world-weary soul. “Go to sleep.”

They fall quiet for a moment, at least until Noct shoves his hands down the back of Prompto’s shorts to make him damn near shriek. Prompto starts kicking as he squirms away, only for Noct to wrap an arm around his middle and reel him back in.

“Boooys,” Ignis, with much dignity, does _not_  whine.

“Gladio’s snoring!” Prompto protests, rolling over to face Noct so he can look at Ignis over Noct’s shoulder. “Stuff part of the blanket in his mouth or something.”

“Smothering him, while tempting, seems like a bit of an overreaction,” Ignis returns blandly. “ _Pretend_  to sleep, then.”

“Fiiiiine.” With a drawn out groan, Prompto tucks his head under Noct’s chin. He squeezes his eyes shut and pretends very hard to be asleep. At least until Noct bends his neck to kiss Prompto’s forehead, and it sets off another round of sniggering.

With a noise of disgust, Ignis rolls away and pulls his pillow over his head.

*

Noct isn’t really talking. He’s _awake_ , which is a relief, but he’s not really doing anything. Ignis tried getting through to him, though his own nerves were already too frayed for him to do much. Gladio tried getting through to him, though it mostly involved a lot of shouting and calling Noct a coward, and Prompto isn’t really sure how that was supposed to help. Shocker: it hadn’t. Noct had stared blankly at Gladio like he wasn’t even there until Gladio threw his hands up and left.

Prompto guesses it’s his turn now.

He creeps into the room. Noct is still clutching the notebook like a lifeline and staring out the window. He doesn’t move when Prompto sits next to him.

Prompto isn’t sure what to do, at first. And then he leans over and rests his chin on Noct’s shoulder. “Need anything?” he asks simply.

The shoulder he isn’t leaning on shrugs, and yeah, sure, it’s not the most helpful response, but at least it’s _a_  response. Prompto turns his head to nose at Noct’s cheek. “Hungry?”

He gets a reluctant nod in return.

“Thirsty?”

Again, he gets a nod.

“You care what you get?”

Noct shakes his head tightly.

“Gotcha.” Prompto gets back to his feet, runs a hand through Noct’s hair, and leans down to kiss the top of his head. Fingers close around his wrist before he can walk away, before Noct slips his hand down enough to squeeze Prompto’s fingers.

Prompto squeezes right back before he lets go, Noct’s hand falling back to his lap.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

*

Eventually, Noctis steps out of the caravan, clean as he can get in the rinky-dink little shower, and dressed in the raiment of kings. For all that the look on his face says he doesn’t think it fits him, he carries it off well.

Ignis and Gladio are in the diner, probably preparing for the trip they all know is coming. So it’s just Prompto and Noctis outside the camper. _Finally_. ~~He thought they’d never leave.~~

Noctis looks like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t get the chance to. Prompto closes the distance between them, cups Noctis’s face in both hands, and crushes their mouths together. He has been waiting ten years to do that, and he doesn’t think it’s ever going to be enough.

For a moment, Noctis doesn’t react, standing rigidly, hands hovering at his sides. And then he practically melts, wrapping his hands around Prompto’s hips and practically diving into the kiss.

Noctis tugs him forward by his hips, and Prompto threads his fingers into Noctis’s hair, and it seems more like they’re trying to inhale each other.

Noctis leans his forehead against Prompto’s afterwards, panting slowly through his nose. He smiles crookedly, and for a moment he’s the twenty-year-old boy that Prompto remembers.

“I missed you, too.”


	26. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Ignis/Noctis  
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis. Gladio and Prompto mentioned.  
> Warnings: Some sad drunkenness in the second part  
> Rating: T  
> Prompt: Five times kissed

He’s seventeen the first time they kiss, clumsy and awkward like a colt just finding its legs. He doesn’t ask if Ignis has ever kissed anyone before; he decides it’s not important.

What is important is the second kiss and then the third, the way he climbs into Ignis’s lap, and the way Ignis’s hands press against the small of his back. He’s always loved Ignis’s hands. He supposes now he can appreciate them more often.

Though, they don’t get particularly… _adventurous_  that night. He would be willing to, he supposes, if Ignis wanted to, but he’s glad to take things slowly.

*

The outpost is quiet. Cor is gone, off to do…whatever it is The Immortal does. Insomnia is in shambles, the king is dead, Ignis’s uncle is dead, just about _everyone he ever knew is dead_ , and he can’t find Noct.

He’s about ready to find a bulldozer and knock the outpost down if need be, when he nearly _trips over the prince_ , tucked into a corner behind the outpost. He smells– _reeks_ –of cheap alcohol, and a mostly empty bottle of cooking wine dangles from his hand.

It occurs to Ignis, then, that they’ve barely spoken since the announcement of the engagement, and perhaps he’s not the best person to do this just now. But he can’t really see Gladio having a particularly delicate touch, and Prompto is already nearly in pieces himself; expecting him to take care of Noct seems needlessly cruel just now.

Quietly, Ignis sits down beside him, and there’s perhaps half a second before Noct all but burrows against his side.

“Is there anything I can say that will help?” Ignis wonders eventually, one arm curled around Noct’s shoulders. Noct shakes his head tightly and clenches a hand in Ignis’s jacket. Ignis sighs, and his hold on Noctis tightens.

They sit in silence, until eventually Noct asks quietly, “Specs? You love me, right?”

“Of course.” Regardless of their circumstances, Ignis is not going to lie, at least not to Noctis.

Noct hums a thoughtful note, low and contemplative, just before he clambers into Ignis’s lap and kisses him sloppily. He misses by and large, lips landing more in the vicinity of his chin. “Highness–” Ignis tries feebly, though he already knows it’s a losing battle. “Highness, you’re drunk. You don’t–”

Noct’s hold on his shoulders tightens suddenly, and when he meets the prince’s gaze, there is _outrage_.

“ _You_  broke up with _me_ ,” Noctis reminds him sharply, and Ignis flinches and looks away.

Noct’s weight sags and he leans his forehead against Ignis’s shoulder. “No, no, that–” he mumbles towards Ignis’s shirt. “That’s not–I _understand_ , but–” He makes a noise of inarticulate, impotent frustration before he buries his face against the side of Ignis’s neck. “You don’t get to pretend ’m the one goin’ backwards,” he settles on, hardly audible. “Do you wanna be with me or not?”

“I always have, Noct.”

Noct nods slowly against Ignis’s neck. “’kay. We…we can go from there.”

*

“Noct, where are we going?” Ignis sounds lackluster to his own ears, but if Noct objects to his lacking enthusiasm, he doesn’t say anything. Of course, Noct himself hasn’t exactly been _perky_  lately.

“No idea,” Noct replies, sounding distracted. He keeps leading, fingers curled tight around Ignis’s.

When at last they come to a halt, it’s quiet. The sounds of other people are still present, but distant enough to surmise that they have some privacy.

“What are you doing?” he wonders, as Noct begins peeling one of his gloves off. He doesn’t get an answer, but then he feels a ring being slid onto one of his fingers, thick and unexpectedly weighty for such a small thing. Noct grabs hold of his hands, and he feels the press of a matching ring. Ignis is fairly sure his lungs have stopped working.

“…Noct?” It’s all he can manage, for the moment.

Noct’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I just–we’ll be getting on the train tomorrow, and we don’t know what’s going to happen,” his voice is getting lower and quicker as he speaks, “and I just wanted to–I don’t know. I just wanted to know.”

Ignis can hear Noct fidgeting as the silence drags on, his jacket rustling and his boots scuffing against the ground. Finally, he squeezes Noct’s hand and gets his mouth to _work_.

“What do they look like?”

“Pewter,” Noct answers quietly. “There’s a band of snowflake obsidian around the middle.”

Ignis touches it with his free hand, and is oddly charmed to find that the obsidian band can be turned separately from the rest of the ring. And then a thought occurs to him.

“…That doesn’t sound like something you can have made on a whim, Noctis.”

Noct clears his throat. “I’ve…had them for a while,” he admits quietly. “But things…kept… _happening_. But I–”

“Noctis?” Ignis cups Noct’s chin with his free hand. “Stop talking.”

Noct’s brief burst of laughter is muffled by their lips meeting, but it’s a sound Ignis hasn’t heard in far too long all the same.

*

Prompto is in the tent, escaping the tension. Gladio has wandered off under the guise of finding something dry enough to use as firewood. Noct’s magic can burn just about anything, but if he needs an excuse to go clear his head, no one is going to stop him.

On the whole, Cartanica has been a disaster, but it’s just Noct and Ignis beside the fire, and it’s beginning to look up.

Ignis is flat on his back on the ground while Noct straddles his ribs, their hands laced together on the ground on either side of Ignis’s head. Their conversation meanders from one topic to another, drifting lazily.

It isn’t until Ignis is beginning to drift off halfway through a sentence that they decide that perhaps they should head to bed. Noct leans down, his hold on Ignis’s hands tightening. He bumps their foreheads together, kisses the end of Ignis’s nose, and then kisses him properly, relaxed and unhurried. The mood will be gone soon enough; he wants to milk it while he can.

Finally, though, he pulls away. “Come on,” he sighs fondly as he sits up. “Busy day tomorrow. Let’s get to bed.”

*

Absentmindedly, he spins the obsidian band of his ring with two fingers. After ten years, the habit is ingrained enough that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it anymore.

“You look like you’re a thousand miles away.”

At Noctis’s observation, Ignis snaps back to the present with a jolt, fingers stilling. It takes a long moment before he admits, “There is a very selfish part of me that wants to say ‘damn everyone else’ and keep you to myself.”

Noctis sighs, and maybe it’s supposed to be a laugh. He curls a hand against the back of Ignis’s neck, and his fingers card through the short hair there. “Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs wryly.

His fingers tense against Ignis’s neck, and Ignis tips his head to meet him as Noctis leans in. His fingers clench in the front of Noctis’s shirt, intent on drawing him in closer. This could very well be their last kiss, and he intends to make it last.

His face is damp afterwards. Kindly, Noctis makes no comment on it.


	27. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explanation: sorry, but I'm just gonna say 'parts of this aren't gonna make perfect sense,' since I borrowed REALLY heavily from my rp threads with this Prompto.
> 
> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto, Noctis  
> Warnings: Finger sucking. Depression.  
> Rating: T  
> Prompt: five times kissed

The boat ride is quiet and fairly dull, and they’re steadily working their way through a ludicrously large bag of sour gummy worms that Ignis handed them, presumably as bribery to not throw anyone overboard on a lark.

They’ve both taken over a section of seats, and with a worm dangling from one corner of his mouth, Prompto muses, “You know, you never did say what you’re supposed to do with fingers in _that context_ ,” and there’s an impish little smile on his face, like he thinks he’s winning a game.

That section of Noct’s brain usually reserved for moments where he’s being challenged switches on, and before he can help himself, he reaches out and grabs one of Prompto’s wrist. Actually, he’s pretty sure his brain has simply _turned off_. That would explain why he decides to close his lips around Prompto’s middle finger, just past the second knuckle. He sucks on it (there’s still sugar on it, which is a bit odd, but probably not as odd as it should be), glancing up to meet Prompto’s eyes as he does.

The blond’s eyes are wide and his face flushed. Entertainingly, the gummy worm has fallen out of his mouth and landed on his lap.

Slowly, Noct withdraws, drawing the flat of his tongue along Prompto’s finger as he leans back.

“Something like that,” he finally answers, his voice remarkably steady, though he can feel his face heating up as what just happened processes. “You dropped that,” he adds, very helpfully, pointing to the worm in Prompto’s lap.

*

Noct is still largely in disbelief that the Secretary seemed to _like_  him, but Prompto mashes a kiss against his cheek and furiously ruffles his hair before at last catching Noct in a good-natured headlock.

“Look alive, buddy!” he commands jubilantly, bonking his forehead against Noct’s temple. “It’s good news! You can put your emo pants back on later!”

A snort of laughter escapes before Noct can help it.

*

When Prompto stumbles into the room, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, Noct is huddled in the middle of the bed with his hands in his hair, furiously babbling apologies at his knees as he tugs at his hair. The bedside lamp is on the floor, the bulb shattered and the lamp itself cracked. Prompto has no idea what happened, but he can intuit that it _wasn’t good_.

He climbs onto the bed, wraps his arms around Noct, and bundles him close. He’s murmuring something to him, senseless soothing claptrap, he’s not even sure what most of it is. But it’s helping, at least, as Noct’s white-knuckled grip slowly relaxes. He quiets in increments–he stops talking first, and eventually his breathing eases from its sprint–and eventually pulls his arms in closer, folding them to his chest.

Prompto sighs out a slow breath, tension he hadn’t noticed bleeding away.

“Sorry,” Noct mumbles eventually. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Prompto snorts out a laugh despite himself. He ducks his face against the top of Noct’s head for a second, and then kisses his hair. “Mind if I stay here tonight?” he asks, voice muffled.

For a moment, he worries Noct is going to kick him out. But then he shakes his head tightly, and Prompto relaxes.

“’kay. Didn’t think you’d mind.”

*

They steal a moment to themselves in the rearmost car of the train, sitting on the Regalia’s backseat. Prompto has his back to the door, one foot on the car’s floor and the other leg stretched out along the back of the seat. Noct is partially curled against his chest, sound asleep. It’s a marked improvement from earlier.

(Prompto still sort of wants to punch himself, but Noct seems to have forgotten ‘ _I hate you_ ’ just as easily as he forgot a bullet to the shoulder. That thought doesn’t really help much.)

Prompto plays with his phone, until eventually Noct twitches and wakes up, coming awake all at once in the way they’ve all learned he tends to after a nightmare. Prompto threads his fingers through Noct’s hair, nails dragging along his scalp, and eventually Noct relaxes again. His eyes drift shut, though his breathing gives away that he’s still awake.

“Gil for your thoughts?” Prompto wonders eventually.

He gets a groggy, slightly slurred, “Feels really nice,” in reply, and decides ‘still awake’ is maybe a bit of an overestimation.

Snorting out a laugh, Prompto observes, “No deep thinkin’, then. Gotcha.” He ducks his head down to kiss the top of Noct’s head without thinking. “Go back to sleep.”

“Still gonna be here later?” Noct wonders, voice a sleepy mumble.

Prompto sort of feels like he’s been punched in the chest, but his voice is cheerful as he says, “You know it.”

“’Kay. Jus’…keep doin’ that.” The end of the command is hardly audible, and Noct is asleep again a breath later.

*

“What’s that on your face?”

Because of course that’s the first thing Noct asks. Prompto didn’t expect anything else.

With a scowl, he reaches up to curl a hand over his chin, hiding his goatee. “It’s better than _yours_ ,” he fires back, his lower lip jutting out in a pout that’s only _mostly_  feigned.

“I’ve got extenuating circumstances,” Noct sniffs primly in return, folding his arms over his chest and sticking his nose up.

“Your _face_  is an extenuating circumstance,” Prompto huffs, folding his arms, his shoulders rounding.

Noct schools his features into a wide-eyed (nearly _doe eyed_ ) pout and asks, so very innocently, “So I’m not pretty anymore, Prom?”

Prompto smiles slowly, soft and fond. He folds his arms and shrugs loosely. “Nah,” he replies. “Gorgeous.”

Just as expected, Noct’s face pinks slightly, and he cuts his eyes sharply to the side as he clears his throat behind one hand, masking a smile. Some things never change, and Prompto grins.

He lifts a hand and crooks two fingers– _come here_ –and without protest, Noct closes the distance between them. His hands hover for a moment, before he curls them cautiously around Prompto’s hips. A hand fists into his hair and wrenches him closer. The kiss is harried and clumsy, and it’s been too long and they don’t have enough time, but Noct says none of that, and instead simply lets Prompto back him against the wall of the diner.


	28. au promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explanation: with this particular Prompto, we're writing a verse where the crystal only sucked Noct up for about five minutes before spitting him out again. so he's around for the ten years of darkness, but he doesn't have his magic.
> 
> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis  
> Characters: Prompto, Noctis. Brief Gladio, Ignis mentioned.  
> Warning: Noct in lingerie? It was inspired by [a fanart](https://outofmychair.tumblr.com/post/162225037077/filthyamphibian-some-casual-leisurely). <\-- nsfw  
> Rating: T?  
> Prompt: Five times kissed. I get a lot of that one.

Being king at the end of the world is sort of a performative job. Noct mediates a few issues now and then, and he starts barking orders pretty quickly in a crisis, but on the whole he’s more of a figurehead: there to give people hope by his very existence, but not much actual governing occurs.

Even so, once Gladio clears him for hunting, Noct escapes as often as he can. Usually with Prompto, but occasionally without. (Never alone, though. The other hunters know him and would never let him leave without backup.) He opts for escort jobs, most often. While it would be convenient if no one ever had to leave Lestallum, that’s not the case, and not everyone is a hunter.

He’s escorting a group of six to Hammerhead with one other hunter and Gladio. All together, it should have been a three day trip.

He’s been gone for five.

Prompto is about ready to chew a hole through the wall out of stress. He’s driving Ignis slowly insane, but they keep each other distracted as best they can, because Ignis is no less concerned, even if he hides it better.

Prompto returns to the hotel room he shares with Noct on the fifth night, hoping he’ll pass out as soon as he lays down after a day of working in basically every corner of the city. But he freezes as soon as he’s in the room.

There is Noct, curled up on the bed, looking slightly battered but still in one piece. He’s fast asleep, still fully dressed. He hasn’t even taken his boots off.

Prompto dive bombs onto the bed before he can stop himself, and Noct flails his way awake as Prompto throws his arms around him. He at least waits until Noct is some semblance of _awake_ , before kissing him all over his face.

When he finally leans away, Noct is signing at him sleepily, because signing always seems to come to him quicker than actual words when he’s in Tired Zombie Mode. Some of the signs are shaped wrong, but Prompto gets the gist of it.

He waits just long enough for Noct to finish with the sloppy apology before fisting a hand in his hair and crushing their mouths together.

*

They wind up with an apartment, after about a year. An _actual_  apartment. The hunter who lived in it never came back, and Noct was offered first dibs. Everyone seemed…adverse to the idea of the king squatting in a hotel, regardless of how little Noct actually cared about it.

Still, they aren’t going to sneeze at the offer. It’s not particularly large–it’s a studio apartment with a living room, bedroom, and kitchenette all mashed together into one, and only a single bathroom–but they can make it their own.

It barely takes an afternoon to move in, and most of that time is moving the hunter’s stuff out; they don’t have much that they call their own.

In theory, it means they have plenty of time to sprawl together on the bed, fingers laced together as they kiss, Noct’s back against the mattress. There are many surfaces in the apartment, after all, and eventually all of them will have to be christened.

And then, with Ignis in tow, Gladio bulldozes into the apartment, demanding, “Slobber on each other later.” At the scandalized looks he gets, he wonders jovially, “What? Did you think you got rid of us just because you left the hotel?”

*

It is Prompto’s twenty-fifth birthday, and he hardly even spares it a thought, at least until he gets back to the apartment.

He putters around the kitchenette for a moment. He can’t see Noct, which means the only real option is that he’s in the bathroom.

Prompto’s peering through the cupboards when Noct finally makes his way to the kitchenette, wondering mildly, “Anything interesting happen today?”

“Not really,” Prompto answers easily, shrugging, still looking through the cupboards.

“Prom.” Noct sounds faintly exasperated, but fond all the same. “ _Turn around_.”

It is a _command_ , not a suggestion, not a request, and Prompto is turning before the words even fully process. And he’s pretty sure his brain stops working for a bit. Because Noct is standing there, leaning one shoulder against the fridge, his arms folded and one ankle crossed over the other. He’s bare from the waist up, and from the waist down, all he’s wearing is a pair of panties, thigh-high stockings, and a garter belt. Prompto is gaping like a fish and he can’t even bring himself to care.

He reaches out, as if on autopilot, and Noct intercepts his hand, grabbing it with both of his own and beginning to back up, towards the bed, towing Prompto along with him.

Prompto takes as many pictures as Noct will let him get away with, before he sets his camera aside. He unclips the garter belt and begins drawing one stocking down Noct’s thigh, his lips following along the bared skin.

*

It is Noct’s twenty-seventh birthday and everyone knows it. Lestallum is densely populated, to say the least, and every corner he turns has another crowd wishing him well.

He’s grateful for the appreciation and he accepts it all as gracefully as he can, but he’s always been an introvert and he’s always preferred people in small doses. By lunch his smile is strained, by dinner he’s exhausted, and his and Prompto’s plans for the night fall apart.

… 

It is Noct’s twenty-eighth birthday, and they both decide they’re not leaving the apartment. Prompto ties a sock to the doorknob to keep Gladio from barging in.

They’re sitting in the tub, Noct reclining against the back of it and Prompto leaning against his chest. When Noct noses expectantly at his temple, Prompto turns his head easily, meeting the kiss.

They migrate to the bed eventually, not even bothering with clothes. It seems a bit unnecessary.

It’s a pretty good day, as far as birthday’s go.

*

When Prompto wakes up, it takes him a moment to realize that the light out of the corner of his eye is not a lamp. It’s flickering too much, in a manner like–

He throws himself out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets in his haste to get to the kitchenette, until he realizes that it is _not_  on fire.

The fire, instead, is cupped harmlessly in Noct’s hands as he sits on the floor, his back against the counter. His father’s sword, once lost in the arsenal, is now speared into the floor beside him, the blade sunk deep into the linoleum.

Noct’s face is unnervingly devoid of expression as he stares at his handful of fire, but he’s weeping silently all the same.

Prompto slumps down to his knees and shuffles forward, until he can cup his hands under Noct’s and push them closed, snuffing out the flames. Noct’s hands go limp, and Prompto curls his fingers around his wrists.

For a moment, Noct simply stares down at their hands, until finally, “Prom?” His voice is level. “I don’t want to die.” Quieter, then, “I thought I was ready.”

Prompto’s hands slide up Noct’s arms, to his shoulders and then his neck, and finally cup his face. He draws Noct closer, pressing their foreheads together for a moment, before he dips in to close the last of the distance and kiss him.

It tastes like salt and it takes some coaxing before Noct responds, curling his fingers in Prompto’s sleeves to pull him closer.

When they separate, it’s so Prompto can offer, “We can wait. To tell the others. A little bit longer won’t make a difference.”

For a drawn out moment, there’s no reaction, and then Noct nods slowly.

“Okay.”


	29. gladnoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Gladio/Noct  
> Characters: Gladio, Noct, Ignis and Prompto briefly  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Prompt: five times kissed

The hotel is nothing special. It’s about on par with every other roadside motel. But they had enough gil to splurge on two rooms. The walls are too thin for Gladio and Noct to get up to anything… _loud_ , since surely Ignis and Prompto would hear it from right next door, but it’s alright.

Noct is fresh out of the shower, wearing one of Gladio’s hoodies and nothing else. “I’m keeping it,” he states blandly, sprawling out on the bed. He takes up an amazing amount of space, considering he’s not exactly huge.

Gladio flops down on top of him and Noct squawks and flails fruitlessly before he gives up and goes limp. Eventually he shifts enough to kiss the side of Gladio’s neck, and at last his Shield rolls off of him.

*

Altissia at night is beautiful. The restaurants are incredible. The ice cream is pretty fucking good, too.

Noct is leading the way to… somewhere, when Gladio finally wonders, “Was this a date?”

Noct glances over his shoulder at him, coming to a halt. Rolling his eyes, he turns around. He kisses his fingertips and reaches up to pat Gladio’s cheek before he turns back around and resumes leading the way to… wherever.

“You’re a patronizing little shit,” Gladio grumbles, falling into step behind him again. “Lucky I don’t throw you in a canal.”

*

After Altissia, Noct doesn’t let Gladio touch him, if it’s not related to combat. Hardly even lets him close. Kissing is certainly out of the question. Things are… better, a bit, after they step out of the mine in Cartanica, but then Prompto is gone and no one is feeling particularly touchy-feely, and then they’re separated and occasionally Gladio swears he can hear Noct in trouble, but there’s no way to get to him.

But finally– _finally_ –Noct is back with them, and Prompto is back, and they’re all maybe a bit worse for wear, but safe and in one piece. They stumble into a barracks like a quartet of zombies, and Gladio crushes Noct to his chest on one of the bunks, kissing him slowly and carefully, regardless of Prompto and Ignis being there. Noct, about ready to fall apart at the seams by then, practically melts.

Prompto must be bouncing back quickly, as he takes a picture of them (while Ignis wonders in a deadpan, “Are they pretending we don’t notice them being inappropriate again?”).

It’s the last time Gladio gets to kiss him for a very long time. Later, after waiting in Zegnautus Keep for _days_  before admitting that Noct isn’t going to just re-materialize and they have to leave, Gladio asks to keep the picture.

*

Ignis and Prompto have disappeared into the tent. Noctis has been staring blankly into the fire for the past ten minutes; whether or not he’s even blinked is up for debate.

“Noct.” It’s Gladio who breaks the silence.

With a startled jerk, Noctis glances up through his bangs, hands clenching on his knees. He swallows. “Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

Noctis huffs out a breath of laughter at the simplicity of the demand, but he dutifully gets to his feet and crosses to the other side of the fire. Gladio grabs him around the middle and tugs him down before he has a chance to do much else, and Noctis lands in his Shield’s lap with a grunt.

He tips his head up, and when Gladio kisses him, it is ten years too late, but despite that it is slow and nearly chaste. It tastes like salt by the end.

*

“Noct!”

The king pauses on the stairs, shoulders drooping slightly. Slowly, he looks over his shoulder, turning his head just enough to look from the corner of his eye. “Gladio.”

Gladio clears the space between them, taking the stairs two at a time. He catches Noctis’s face in both hands, and when he crushes their mouths together, it feels like good-bye.

Too soon, it ends, as the king slowly, reluctantly pries himself away from his Shield and turns away, setting his sights once more on the throne room.


	30. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Ignis/Noctis  
> Characters: Noctis, Ignis. Prompto and Gladio mentioned.  
> Warnings: Anxiety.  
> Rating: PG.  
> Prompt: five times kissed

Noctis is holding Ignis’s glasses, cradling them protectively to his chest with one hand. Ignis stands across from him, the hood of the Regalia between them. He takes a step left, and Noctis shift’s left in turn. Ignis takes a step right, and predictably Noctis shifts right.

Ignis has another pair. And he knows that if he simply says he’s not in the mood and asks for them back, Noctis will hand the glasses over. But Gladio and Prompto are in the shop and likely will be for a while, so they have a bit of free time, and honestly, what’s the harm?

Ignis lunges across the hood of the car, and Noctis practically squeals as he starts to backpedal, but not quite quickly enough. He winds up on his ass on the ground, his boyfriend on his lap, and it all seems a little backwards compared to their norm.

Noctis is going to phase right out of the way. Ignis can tell, because there’s always a certain feel to the air when he does and because Ignis has known Noct to be a little shit since he was knee high.

Ignis cups the back of Noctis’s head with one hand and kisses him, and any attempts to flee are forgotten.

Deftly, Ignis snatches his glasses back with his free hand and pulls away. He doesn’t make it particularly far before Noctis grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and yanks him back down.

*

The bar is crowded and lively, Noctis is just on the edge of tipsy, and Weskham has captured Ignis’s attention talking about… something vaguely historical. Noctis offers a few words every so often, but on the whole he’s content to play observer. Ignis is at the ‘talking with his hands’ level of drunk and sort of red in the face, and his eyes are crinkled at the corners slightly from his grin.

He’s too fucking cute, honestly, and sometimes Noctis can’t help himself.

“…and frankly, I don’t really see why–oh. Hello.” Ignis’s response cuts off abruptly as Noctis practically burrows against his side. Rather than offering any sort of reply, Noctis just winds his arms around Ignis’s middle and tucks himself closer.

Ignis snorts and curls an arm around Noctis’s back, elbow crooked so he can run his fingers through the hair at the back of Noctis’s head. He ducks slightly, just enough to kiss the top of Noctis’s head before he straightens back up and resumes his conversation with a rather amused-looking Weskham.

*

Prompto is buried in his camera roll, pretending the campsite isn’t tense enough to cut the air with a stick. Gladio is in the tent already, having made some excuse about needing to turn in early. Ignis is… not quite fidgeting, but close enough, unsure what to do with himself.

Noctis sets his half-finished cup of noodles aside. It’s cold by now and has a consistency reminiscent of glue, and besides which, he’s not really hungry. He heaves himself out of his chair, pulling the book Ignis had been reading back in Altissia out of the armiger as he does.

Ignis cocks his head slightly as Noctis approaches, and he doesn’t protest as Noctis pushes his knees apart to stand between them. His fingertips graze Ignis’s shoulder at first, almost like a warning, before cupping the back of Ignis’s head. Noctis leans down, first to bump their foreheads together and then to kiss him, slow but still too short because they haven’t had any _time_  since… well, everything, but Prompto is still right there.

Noctis pulls away and taps Ignis over the head with the book before he sits down, bracketed by Ignis’s knees. “One seventy-six or one seventy-seven?” he asks as he flips the book open to the bookmark.

Ignis sighs out something that’s almost a laugh, and some of the nervous energy buzzing under his skin seems to have ebbed. Carefully, his fingers find Noctis’s hair as he answers, “One seventy-six. Around halfway down the page.”

*

Hammerhead was never _crowded_  before, but it seems so… claustrophobic now. As if the rest of the world just stops existing outside of the floodlight’s range. Noctis tries not to think about it.

He’s sitting on the tailgate of Talcott’s truck, hands clenched together between his knees and shoulders hunched. He’s still damp from the camper’s shower, and dressed in a suit that fits him but feels like it shouldn’t.

“Noct?”

Ignis’s voice is hesitant and Noctis looks up sharply. Ignis doesn’t wait for a response before he hoists himself up to sit on the tailgate. Their knees bump together.

It doesn’t _feel_  like it’s been ten years. It feels like time has passed, but… days, mostly. Maybe weeks. Not a decade. Maybe that’s why Noctis tips sideways, leaning one temple against Ignis’s shoulder, regardless of the fact that he has literally no idea of what’s going on in Ignis’s life anymore.

If Ignis minds, he doesn’t say so. He tips his head to the side, resting his cheek against Noctis’s hair.

“Ignis?”

“Hm?”

Noctis sits up, drawing one leg up enough to turn sideways. He cups Ignis’s face in both hands, pushing Ignis’s visor up towards his hairline with his thumbs.

When Noctis kisses him, Ignis practically melts against him, one hand fisting in the front of Noctis’s shirt, and it’s another stark reminder that it has been _ten years_.

The kiss doesn’t seem to last nearly long enough before they separate.

“Love you,” Noctis murmurs, and he knows what’s coming and he should have said it so many more times while he still had time to say it.

Ignis’s smile is tired, but it seems no less genuine. “I love you, too.”

*

When Noctis wakes up (for the seventh time, actually, but it’s the first time he’s lucid enough to remember anything), he is… confused. He’s supposed to be dead, after all, but he’s fairly comfortable assuming that the afterlife doesn’t look or smell like a hospital room.

Which means he’s alive.

Which makes no sense, because Bahamut told him he had to die; there was no other way.

Which means, the gods… spared him?

But he doesn’t know why. Either he’s failed, or the gods want something else from him, but he doesn’t know what he has left to give that’s of any worth, but surely a god’s mercy must come with some sort of price, but he doesn’t know what that price will be or if he can pay it or if someone else will need to pay it when he turns out to be an abject failure again, because there can’t just be _no price_ , and the circle is getting less and less coherent the more it repeats because his head feels like it’s full of muddy cotton and his chest hurts his back hurts breathing hurts everything hurts and he can’t breathe and something _won’t stop fucking beeping_

He doesn’t hear footsteps, and he stills when a hand lands on his wrist, curling around it loosely before finding his hand. He stills not out of a sense of ease, but like a hare prepared to bolt, and Ignis murmurs, “Breathe, Noct. Like I told you.”

_in two three, out two three_

His chest hurts and the heart monitor is still too loud, but gradually it slows and gets… tolerable. Belatedly, he squeezes Ignis’s fingers, and Ignis lifts his hand, lips grazing the back of his knuckles briefly before lowering his hand back to the bed again.

“Whatever is going on in there,” Ignis states, his voice low but steady enough for Noctis to latch onto it, “can be worried about later. Yes?”

“…Yes.”

Finally, Ignis smiles. He looks tired, but he looks… alright. Still in one piece. Noctis’s grip on his hand tightens.

Ignis leans down and kisses his forehead. “Go back to sleep, Noct.”

It seems like good advice.


	31. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
> Characters: Noctis, Carbuncle  
> Warning: Ressurection  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: None, I just got bored and my dash was really quiet

The path he’s following is dark, lit only by glowing red jewels, like glitter scattered over the ground. Each step feels like he’s being dragged through the ground and he feels like he’s dissolving at the edges.

He’s so tired, but Carbuncle is just a few yards ahead of him, horn glowing and fur shimmering, and every time Noctis slows, his phone buzzes in his hand.

_Keep going!_

_We’re nearly there!_

_You can’t stop yet!_

He peers over his shoulder, but the path is gray and cracked behind him, as if the dirt simply swallowed the jewels, and just looking at it makes his stomach churn with dread.

Abruptly, Carbuncle is _right there_ , teeth tugging at one of the cuffs of his pants, and Noctis’s phone is buzzing fit to explode. He looks at it, and amidst the frantic, panicked spill of random letters and symbols, there’s just the words _NOT THAT WAY_ , and Noctis keeps walking.

Carbuncle scampers ahead once again, and then he turns to shuffle backwards, watching Noctis warily to make sure he keeps moving.

There’s pressure behind his eyes, getting stronger with each step. His legs buckle and he curls in on himself, heels of his hands digging into his temples.

He looks down, and Carbuncle is standing in front of him. The astral rears up onto his hind legs, placing a paw on Noctis’s chin for balance and staring into his eyes. Slowly, Noctis nods, and Carbuncle bounds forward again, pausing every few steps as Noctis is reduced to crawling in his wake.

When Carbuncle stops at the end of the path, there’s a mirror. Carbuncle stands on two legs once again, balancing precariously as he presses his nose to Noctis’s and licks his face.

_Good luck, your Majesty._

Noctis runs a hand along the astral’s back, and then he presses a hand to the mirror and falls through it.

There’s a shower of glittering red light, like a motes of ruby dust floating in a window, and with a heaving gasp, Noctis fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and he’s staring up at the sky, overcast but dyed in the orange and gold and pink of sunrise.

Gladio very nearly drops him in surprise, and his Shield sinks to his knees as Prompto and Ignis crowd close. They’re all babbling over top of each other and he’s pretty sure all three of them have started crying. He reaches up with both hands, pressing one palm to Gladio’s mouth and one palm to Ignis’s, and then sighs a quiet, “Shhhhh,” at Prompto.

When there is silence, his hands fall back to his lap and he laughs, shaky with exhaustion and disbelief. “I’ve…I’ve got a story to tell you.”


	32. ardynoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ardyn, Noctis  
> Pairing: Ardyn/Noctis  
> Warnings: Choking. Noct is an unwilling participant of all these kisses. Ardyn is... Ardyn.  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: five times kissed

The airship is silent, save for the sounds of the ship itself, the engine rumbling through the walls and the flooring. Noctis lurks by the gangplank, arms folded and shoulders rounded, as if he’s waiting for the walls to eat him.

The Chancellor is near at hand. Not saying anything, but watching Noctis in silence expectation, one shoulder leaning against the wall.

“ _What_?” Noctis finally demands, when he can’t take that silent gaze boring into the side of his head any longer, before he sighs out a breath and lifts a hand to drag it down his face. “Sorry,” he offers shortly. “What?” he repeats, his tone more level.

“I’m simply waiting for some form of thanks, considering all I’ve done for you today,” the Chancellor answers, and he sounds as if he’s  _trying_  to sound earnest but has never actually had to do so before, and he’s only heard it described in passing.

It’s not really working for him, in short.

Noctis’s eyes narrow slightly in vague unease, suspicion mounting. He bows at the waist, offering an extravagant flourish with one hand, his other arm tucked into the small of his back. “My sincerest thanks, Chancellor,” he tacks on as he straightens up again.

Ardyn’s smile is an unpleasant, twisted thing, small and sharp. “A valiant effort, Your Highness, but not quite what I had in mind. But you’re in luck; I’ve never been one to look past a teaching moment.”

A moment later, there is a hand in Noctis’s hair, wrenching his head back, and another hand curling against the back of his neck, urging him up onto his toes. Ardyn’s mouth is warm as it presses to his, slow and coaxing but insistent until at last Noctis responds, because clearly that’s what’s being expected of him here. It’s tentative and reluctant and lasts for only a moment

He rips himself away, tripping back a step as soon as there’s a centimeter of space between them. His shoulders bump the wall and he comes to a halt. Ardyn offers only a smile, small and almost patronizingly amused, before he turns and moseys on his way.

Noctis ducks his head to one side to scrub his mouth against his sleeve.

*

Noctis is about four inches from disappearing into the mine when Ardyn calls, “A word, Your Highness? Before it slips my mind entirely.” The prince rolls his eyes emphatically but motions for Ignis and Prompto to wait at the entrance to the mine as he turns and stalks back through the ankle-deep water to the mouth of the cave.

“Chancellor,” he offers, both a greeting and a demand.

Ardyn curls a hand around the back of Noctis’s neck and yanks him close, and Noctis plants his hands on Ardyn’s chest at the last instant, stiff-arming him away.

“Ah, ah,” Ardyn tuts gently. “Just think, Your Highness. Were it not for me, you would have no way to repair your vessel, and no way to get to Altissia.”

Noctis’s nostrils flare and he opens his mouth, but before the words come out, Ardyn cuts a glance meaningfully to the side. “And do you truly wish to cause a scene with your companions so close?”

Noctis pauses, and slowly his arms go limp, falling back to his sides. He offers no resistance as Ardyn kisses him, but he backs away as soon as the grip against his neck loosens.

“Happy mining,” Ardyn calls after him, as Noctis retreats back towards the mine’s entrance.

*

The train is frigid-- _frozen_ \--and nothing makes sense for the moment. Prompto is gone and Ardyn is... somewhere. Surprise, fucking surprise, Noctis lost track of him  _again_.

There’s a footfall behind him and he turns on his heel, sword in hand as he moves, only for the blade to cut through thin air.

An elbow slams into his back, just between his shoulders, and his sword tumbles from his grasp as he pitches forward. A hand latches around his elbow, grip like a vise as it hauls him back.

A palm presses to his neck, fingers digging in beneath the edges of his jaw, and his next breath wheezes out as that hand presses down.

“Now, now,” Ardyn tuts, clicking his tongue in disappointment. Noctis’s back meets the window with enough force that the pane rattles, and only that grip around his neck keeps him from cracking his skull against the glass.

“We’ve been over this,” Ardyn sighs, wrenching Noctis’s head up to look at him. “Some simple recompense for services rendered, that’s all I ask. And I have been so helpful today, wouldn’t you agree, Noct?”

Noctis’s jaw works soundlessly, but he can’t find the air to say anything, and he can’t think of what he might say even if he could.

Ardyn looms closer, and Noctis squeezes his eyes shut.

There are lips against his and a tongue in his mouth. He can’t  _breathe_  and for a moment he just squirms fitfully, as if it’s going to help him at all. The world is starting to speckle at the edges.

_magic magic magic **use your magic**_

Static builds between his fingers, magnesium bright and stinking of ozone and rolling clouds, and when the lightning strikes, it rattles the train car. Ardyn is gone, and Noctis sucks in a shuddering breath and sags back against the window. He braces himself against the glass before he can start to slide down it. He doesn’t have time to catch his breath, and he heaves his weight away from the glass and stumbles back into motion.

*

There’s a creeping numbness crawling through him, spreading from his limbs to his torso as the crystal draws him ever deeper. There’s nowhere for Noctis to go. Nothing for him to do.

Ardyn knows as much. Seems to be relishing it, in fact. His grip on Noctis’s chin is nearly bruising, and his smile is pointed and feral.

“Your precious crystal, Your Majesty,” he all but croons. “Is it everything you thought it would be?” His grip tightens and he steps closer. “I’ve brought you this far, haven’t I?” he muses, and by now they are close enough that their lips are brushing.

When Ardyn closes that last bit of space, Noctis is unmoving, simply waiting until the numbness finishes creeping through him.

*

Regardless of the fact that he’s apparently slept for ten years, Noctis doesn’t  _feel_  like it, and he’s been on his feet and moving since he got back. He’s tired, in a bone-deep way that’s sort of foreign, but he supposes he won’t have time to get used to it.

Insomnia is little more than broken glass and the throne room reeks of rot and mold and fetid meat, and Noctis is ready to be done. He’s ready for it all to be over with.

Maybe Ardyn is, too. Noctis can’t even dredge up any surprise when their fight turns into more of a half-hearted scuffle.

One hand fists in the front of Noctis’s jacket and hauls him down. He catches himself on his forearm, and when Ardyn’s mouth crashes against his it is graceless and glancing and lasts only a moment before Noctis rears back. He plants the tip of his sword against the ground for balance and sits up, scrubbing the back of one hand across his mouth.

“Recompense for services rendered?” he asks flatly, and he is so tired, he can hardly even muster up more than some token irritation.

“My  _thanks_ ,” Ardyn returns simply. “You’ve been a marvelous help.”

Noctis’s shoulders rise as he breathes in, and they sag once more, slowly, as he sighs. His grip around the sword’s hilt tightens and he sits up on his knees. He places the tip of the blade over Ardyn’s chest and heaves his weight downwards


	33. au ardynoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: this is from an AU where Ardyn is one of the astrals, and honestly I can't explain it enough to make it fully comprehensible, but suffice to say, Ardyn and Noct have A History
> 
> Pairing: Ardyn/Noctis  
> Characters: Ardyn, Noctis  
> Warning: Other than previously mentioned incomprehensibility, some dom/sub overtones and an attempted assassination  
> Rating: T  
> Prompt: five times kissed

The first time it happens, Noctis is nothing special yet. Or at least no more special than fate already dictated, with nothing but the magic of his family swimming in his blood. He is eighteen years old, and for ten years he has owed his life to the Alterplexian, and for six he has tried to find the Sospitian hidden beneath the Alterplexian’s mask (and for many more will he continue).

But at the time, he’s simply Noctis, sitting on the altar as if it’s a bench. His offering has already been offered, and he’s simply speaking as he would to anyone else.

He’s learned not to question Ardyn’s abrupt presence at his side; he’s always known the Alterplexian to be capricious and to show up whenever he pleases.

He knows Ardyn probably doesn’t care about his concerns for his father’s health and the way the ring drains him, but it had been a long day, and Noctis can’t quite help himself when he asks, “Can you help him?”

Ardyn is silent, and Noctis isn’t surprised. Rarely does the Alterplexian act simply because someone  _asks_. But after a moment, Ardyn answers, offering a mild, “He is beyond my help.” He pauses, gaze sliding contemplatively towards Noctis. “You, however…?”

Noctis has enough time to wonder what’s going through Ardyn’s head, and then he’s being tugged forward by the front of his jacket and lips are pressing against his, rough and insistent. Whether or not Noctis even enjoys it, he has no time to decide before it feels like there’s lightning down his spine, and his back arches as that feeling eats at every nerve ending. Ardyn swallows any noise he might have made.

It ends as quickly as it began and Ardyn pulls away, dragging the feeling of sparks and electricity with him. Noctis’s fingers still tingle and the scar down his back burns, and suddenly he’s  _exhausted_ , in a way he never has been before, and it’s only Ardyn’s grip on the back of his shirt that keeps him from toppling off of the altar.

Slowly, Noctis sags against Ardyn’s shoulder, managing a sluggish, “What…what did you do?”

“Now, now,” Ardyn scolds gently. “We needn’t ruin the surprise.”

*

Not many can say they’ve been given a gift from the Alterplexian. Just one, in fact. Noctis isn’t even sure if he wants it.

The first time he uses it, it’s an accident, brought on by panic. He’s the prince, after all, and many people want him dead. Occasionally, they even come close to achieving it. Gladio can’t be glued to him at all hours of the day.

He’s being pinned to the floor by a man a full head and shoulders taller than him, with a hand over his mouth and a knife at his throat. Noctis knows that every guard in the Citadel is likely tearing the place apart trying to find him, just as he knows they won’t find him in time.

Dimly, gold light begins to shine against his attacker’s face, just before Noctis makes eye contact with him. It takes only a moment before the man begins screaming in terror, before he throws himself sideways, flailing his knife as he does, trying to ward off some sort of imagined nightmare. Noctis sits up, and he catches the flailing arm, deftly guiding it back and up, until the knife finds a new sheath in its owners chest, just beneath his sternum.

Noctis waits just long enough to be sure there aren’t going to be any surprises before he scrambles to his feet, and to the nearest picture hanging on the wall. He can just barely make out his reflection in the glass that protects it: just enough to tell that his eyes are glowing a vibrant, liquid gold, gradually fading as he stares.

Stumbling away from the frame, he demands to thin air, “What did you  _do?_ ”

A voice tuts reproachfully in his ear and there’s a firm, steady grip against his upper arms, and abruptly Ardyn is standing behind him, pressed against his back and leaning over his shoulder. “I saved your life. Is that any way to say thank you?”

“I don’t—what—“ Noctis’s words trip over themselves, senseless and half-formed.

Ardyn’s fingers press more tightly against Noctis’s arms, and he leans closer to Noctis’s ear, his voice low as he says, “Do not forget what it means to be my favorite, Your Highness, for I shan’t remind you often.” He’s close enough that his lips brush the shell of Noctis’s ear as he speaks, and he leans in, closing that last fraction of space to press a kiss to Noctis’s jaw.

When the doors burst open and half the Crownsguard rushes in, Ardyn is already gone.

*

The world is ending.

Well.

Not really.

But it feels like it is, even if Noctis knows he’s being melodramatic. He usually is. But right now, he can’t be bothered to be…well, bothered about it.

“If I’m supposed to die,” he muses to thin air, his gaze focused on his hands in his lap as he sits on the altar, “wouldn’t it be better to just get it over with?”

He can’t really say he’s  _surprised_  when a hand is suddenly gripping his chin, though the force behind the grip takes him a little of guard. Ardyn doesn’t tip his chin up, so much as he wrenches it upwards, and Noctis finds himself nose-to-nose with the god.

Ardyn crushes their mouths together, and Noctis sits up straighter on the altar to lean into it.

Ardyn is slow to pull away, and when he does, Noctis is clutching at his coat with no memory of consciously doing so.

Ardyn’s grip on Noctis’s chin tightens as his other hand curls against the back of Noctis’s neck, and his eyes are dark as they bore into Noctis’s.

“You are mine.”

*

The ring is on his finger and there are voices in his head, growling and biting, touch it, touch it, touch it touch it touchittouchittouchit and the more he tries to drown them out, the louder and louder they get, until his ears are ringing with the babble.

Noctis doesn’t even remember moving, and then his arm is sunk elbow deep in blue crystal and numbness is creeping towards his shoulder. He digs in his heels and tries to tug his arm free, but only for a moment before it feels…less important, as if the rest of the world is getting hazy at the edges. His expression dims and he stops struggling, and steadily the crystal devours its way up his arm.

He doesn’t really feel it when an arm wraps around him, but he feels it like a bullet through the spine when something strikes the crystal with a vengeance. His back arches in agony by proxy, and the hold on him tightens and  _pulls_.

The world clears, slightly. The bright edges of the world dim slightly, until he can almost make out the details of it, though his vision swims unsteadily.

Noctis is gasping and shuddering, slumped against Ardyn’s shoulder as the Alterplexian kneels beside him. The astral has one hand against the crystal, cracks spreading away from his palm like fissures in a sheet of ice. Shivering rhythmically, Noctis huddles closer to him.

“We’ve been over this,” Ardyn informs the crystal calmly, though his grip across Noctis’s shoulders tightens. “This one is mine.”

Fingers slide along Noctis’s jaw, tipping his chin up. He  _knows_  that Ardyn is simply proving a point just then—claiming his territory while he knows he has an audience—but it’s a comfort all the same, and Noctis leans his cheek into Ardyn’s palm and clutches at Ardyn’s coat as lips seal over his.

*

The world is… hazy, for a time. Though the fog clears fairly soon, there is a gap, and it will be some time yet before he can fill in the pieces again.

He doesn’t quite know who he is. He is Noctis, but that isn’t all. There’s…more.

The presence beside him at the water’s edge is sudden, and Ardyn’s voice is more of a sing-song as he observes, “You’ve been avoiding me.” He clicks his tongue, tutting disapprovingly. “After all I’ve done for you?”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Noctis points out, and there is an echo to his voice that he can’t quite identify, and his eyes glow when he glances fleetingly at his reflection.

Ardyn scoffs, and his hand curls around Noctis’s shoulder. “Come now, Draconian,” he purrs. “You needn’t try to hold the full enormity of it.” He chuckles, low and slow, like oil over glass. “Though I suppose a name that is truly  _yours_  won’t go amiss.”

Noctis’s thoughts feel sluggish, stalling around that  _name_. It shouldn’t be his—he doesn’t remember it being his—but his head hurts as he tries to make it make sense, and he  _can’t remember_ —

Ardyn’s hand slides from Noctis’s shoulder to cup the side of his neck, and Noctis lets himself be drawn closer without protest, his thoughts still elsewhere as he tries to fit the pieces of the world back together until the image makes some semblance of sense, until Ardyn’s lips are on his, dragging him back to the present.

There will be time enough to put the pieces together later.


	34. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I wrote a bunch of drabbles as Christmas presents, and posted them two at a time from the 13th 'til today, and I called it Twelve Days of Drabbling. not all of them involved FFXV, but I'm gonna post the ones that did here, once a day, until I run out. thus guaranteeing that I stay at the top of all the pairing tags for ages.
> 
> Characters: Noctis, Prompto  
> Pairing: Prom/Noct  
> Warnings: Soft, lazy foreplay  
> Rating: Hard T? Soft R?  
> Prompt: CHRISTMAS PRESENT!

It’s quiet that night, or at least as quiet as the night ever gets. The rain drizzles calmly, pattering quietly against the windows and speckling the yellow-bronze streetlight that spills inside, interrupted periodically by the sound of cars cruising down the street.

The apartment is dark, or at least as dark as it ever gets without pulling the curtains shut, and that would block out the sound of the rain, so neither of them bother. Besides, they don’t mind the light.

Noctis is bare from the waist up, straddling Prompto’s middle, hips rocking lackadaisically as they kiss. He’s never going to find enough friction that way for anything to actually happen, but it’s a good feeling all the same.

Beneath him, Prompto is stripped of everything but his bracelets, his hair disheveled from Noct running his fingers through it and his hands linked together behind Noct’s neck until they start wandering down his back. Slowly, at first, to make sure it isn’t one of those weird days where Noct can’t stand to have his back touched, and then bolder once he’s sure everything is alright.

The kiss breaks with a breath of laughter when Prompto’s hands make it to the small of Noct’s back, before he hooks his thumbs in the nearest belt loops and tugs expectantly.

“Really?” Noct asks dryly.

Prompto pouts up at him, eyes practically glowing in the sliver of streetlight that falls across them. “C’mon, lose the pants.”

“What if I wanna make you work for it?” Noct wonders in reply, tone turning cheeky.

It is either the best or the the worst thing to say just then, as Prompto is in motion in an instant, squirming his way free and lunging, so their positions are reversed in mere moments. Noct laughs breathlessly as his back hits the mattress, and he lifts his hips obligingly when Prompto tugs at his waistband. Within a handful of seconds, his pants and his boxers join the rest of the clothing that’s been tossed on the ground.

Prompto is grinning down at him, looking so pleased with himself. The moment is ruined, just a little bit, when Noct lifts his head to kiss the end of Prompto’s nose out of something like retaliation, and the blond smothers a laugh against Noct’s neck. It takes a few seconds before he gathers his composure enough to lift his head again, and when he does, he spends a slow, thoughtful moment just looking Noct over.

“Not sure I worked hard enough for that,” Prompto muses, partially to himself, but the look on his face is sly as he darts a glance up at Noct. Noct almost asks what he’s planning, but then Prompto ducks his head and begins kissing his way down Noct’s chest, and he’s got a pretty good idea of where things are going to go from there.


	35. light lunoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, I don't know if this really counts as a _drabble_ , considering it's more just an overly longwinded 'what if?' scenario
> 
> Characters: Luna, Noctis. Others mentioned.  
> Pairings: Implied LuNoct  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: A Christmas gift

In a different world, in a different time, where the butterfly’s wings flapped to the left and not the right, Ravus bolts to his sister’s side before the battle can even properly begin. He does not survive the Chancellor’s wrath, but he holds Ardyn at bay just long enough for Ignis to arrive, finding both King and Oracle unconscious but  _alive_ , and he puts on the Ring to make sure that alive is how they stay.

Luna does what she can for him later, when the fighting is done and she is awake once again, for the kings and queens of old have named their price but she has leverage of her own. Ignis’s vision will never be what it was and the migraines aren’t ideal, but it’s nothing a new pair of glasses can’t fix for the most part.

They linger in Altissia no longer than is necessary once Noctis is awake, so by the time they board the train, there hasn’t been enough time for the ice to build up on the tracks, and the train rolls along with only a few hiccups, until it comes to a halt in Cartanica. And that, too, is relatively painless.

It isn’t until they reach Tenebrae—silent and empty and ghostly—that they run into trouble, when the empty hallways seem to stretch and twist until they’re all scattered in five directions with hardly any idea of up or down, never mind where they actually  _are_.

It isn’t until they stumble back together in the palace courtyard and Noctis dons the ring that the powers of the Oracle and the powers of the kings and queens of old combine to banish the illusions. But Prompto is already gone and Ardyn is smiling at them like a viper until Shiva manifests and gives them time to escape back to the train, for there are some battles they are not yet ready for.

Gralea is a city still when they get there, rather than a graveyard, but Zegnautus Keep is dead already, save for the shambling magitek troopers that patrol the halls. They are delayed at every turn, but that’s all it is; a series of delays. Inexorably, they make their way onward until they find Prompto in the guts of the keep, and the crystal lying in wait even deeper in Zegnautus’s bowels.

And in the crystal, Noctis learns many things and gains many questions, but he has a very long time to wait before he can ask them.

The sky is orange when the crystal releases him, cast perpetually in the grainy, dying light of sunset. It’s not until they’re resting at that final campsite, pseudo-sunset fading to twilight and then to true night, that Noctis gets a chance to ask, “Did you know?”

“I thought I did.” An Oracle’s work never ends, and Luna is too tired to waste time dancing around the point. “Just as I thought I knew that I was going to die in Altissia.” If she even sees the faintly alarmed look Noctis slides her way, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “But the gods were wrong about that, were they not? Who is to say they can’t be wrong about this as well?”


	36. au promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this Prompto-mun and I play in an AU where Noct is around for those ten years of darkness, but without his magic and with the knowledge that at some unknown point int he future he needs to die
> 
> Characters: Prompto, Noctis  
> Pairing: Prompto/Noctis. Implied Gladio/Ignis in the background.  
> Warnings: Depression, implied suicidal ideation  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: A Christmas present

Their apartment is about seventy-five percent photographs by volume. Prompto makes his own frames from time to time, when his hands need to keep moving, though most of them are purchased or presents.

There are two frames on Noctis’s bedside table: one picture is of Ignis and Gladio, sitting side by side on a couch, while Gladio holds a book up with one hand and Ignis leans his head back, earbuds in and MP3 player held loosely in one hand, and they’re both holding hands as if they’re entirely unaware of it; the other is a selfie of Prompto, one arm looped around his chocobo’s neck to mash Ruffles’s cheek against his own, and he’s grinning wildly in the darkness.

Similarly, there are two frames on Prompto’s bedside table: one is of Ignis looking stoically irate while Gladio grins and retrieve’s a familiar visor from Cassia’s beak; one is Noctis sitting on the balcony, rain dripping from his hair and a perfectly timed droplet balanced on the end of his nose as he stares down at the ring on his finger.

There are at least two dozen on the walls. Photos of Prompto. Photos of Noctis. Photos of Gladio and Ignis. Of Iris, of Talcott, of Aranea, of Cindy, of Cid, of Cor, of Monica, of anyone they can even passably call a friend. Photos of Hammerhead, of Lestallum, of the darkened chocobo post, of havens.

It’s as if Prompto has tried to record the entire world and fit it in a tiny studio apartment. All things considered, he’s had decent luck at his task.

And that isn’t even getting into the photos that still live on Prompto’s camera, or the ones that have been printed but haven’t found their way into frames, be it because of a lack of space on the tables or walls or simply because no one’s found time to hang them.

He finds Noctis looking at them sometimes. Thumbing through the loose photos, moving from frame to frame in the apartment, or just clicking through the photo reel on the camera. Every time, Noctis offers him a tired smile that never quite reaches his eyes—they rarely do anymore—and says, “Just reminding myself.” What he’s fighting for. What he’s dying for. Sometimes Prompto can tell which he means, but most of the time the line is too thin.

There are always more photos after that. Mostly loose, left in stacks on the table on Noctis’s side of the bed. Because that, at least, is something Prompto can do for him even when it seems like he can’t do anything else.

Even as the world gets steadily darker, until the sun is gone and it may as well be midnight at all hours, he finds a way to keep his photos bright. Not just for Noctis, but for himself, and for anyone else who might need a spot of sunshine when there isn’t any left.


	37. promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Noctis, Prompto  
> Pairing: Noctis/Prompto  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: Another Christmas gift

Noct’s cider is weird.

Not  _bad_ , but weird. It’s pomegranate, and Prompto is pretty sure the six pack they’re working their way through as they decorate the apartment costs more than Prompto makes in a month at work.

They aren’t drunk, but they are a bit buzzed. Juuust enough so that it’s hysterical when Prompto complains, “Dude, your lights. How do they work? They won’t stop blinking.”

Around a fit of sniggering, Noct reminds him, “We broke them like two years ago. They’re stuck on the twinkling setting.”

Prompto snorts out a laugh. “Still usin’ ‘em,” he decides, and he sets about stringing them around the tree.

The mistletoe hanging in the middle of the ceiling is mostly there as a joke. Prompto hung it up as soon as they got started, and they keep coming up with more outlandish ways of skirting around it, like the world’s tiniest, most festive minefield.

It’s not until the tree is fully decorated that it really comes up, as Noct takes a few steps back to get a look at the tree, unwittingly standing directly beneath the little sprig of greenery.

It’s probably a bad idea, but he’s standing  _right there_ , and sometimes Prompto just can’t help himself? And whoops, before he can really think twice about it, he’s closing the space between them, catching Noct’s face in both hands, and tugging him into a clumsy kiss.

Noct makes a noise, caught somewhere between a word and a gasp, and his hands hover at his sides like he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing with them. And really, Prompto’s already sort of thrown himself into the situation? So he may as well just keep going. He pulls one hand away from where it’s cupping Noct’s jaw, to instead catch one of Noct’s wrists and drag it to Prompto’s waist. Noct gets the point after that, his other hand following suit, and finally he’s actually responding to the kiss. Neither of them are really any good at it, but that’s kind of irrelevant.

And it sort of tastes like pomegranate cider, which isn’t a bad thing, but…weird.

They’re slow to separate, and they’re quiet for a moment. Noct looks…sort of sheepish, actually, like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing or saying but he hasn’t figured out what that something is. Prompto kisses him a second time to get that look off of his face.

It’s not that complicated, really. Or it…doesn’t need to be? Yeah, that makes more sense. They can admit that they don’t know what they’re doing and that they…probably need to have a talk, without making it complicated.

Noct’s smiling crookedly when they separate again, so maybe he’s realized that, too. Prompto’s willing to count it as a win.


	38. promnis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, I also rp Ignis now, too
> 
> Characters: Prompto, Ignis  
> Pairing: Ignis/Prompto  
> Warnings: Light knifeplay, light asphyxiation  
> Rating: Light R  
> Prompt: Yet another present

“How attached are you to this tank top?” Ignis wonders, and Prompto blinks up at him. It’s not exactly the sort of question he’s expecting in their current position.

“Uh, not really, I guess—“

Ignis hooks the blade of the knife in the neck of the tank top and gives it a tug, and very abruptly there’s a three inch slit in the top of the shirt.

“ _Hey_ —“

Prompto hardly has time to complain before Ignis catches two fingers in the slit and rips downwards, neatly tearing it the rest of the way down.

Prompto makes a faintly disbelieving sound, followed by, “Iggy, you  _complete jackass_ —“

A hand clamps tight over Prompto’s mouth and nose, so all he can smell is leather and trying to drag in a breath is suddenly almost impossible. “Do remember who you’re speaking to,” Ignis chides gently, his other hand idly twisting the blade through the air with a flick of his wrist.

Prompto nods as best as he can, eyes tracking the knife’s movement. With a tiny, knowing smile, Ignis pulls his hand away from Prompto’s mouth and sits back, his weight settling over Prompto’s hips.

He shifts for a moment, expression playing at innocence, as if he’s just trying to get comfortable, and Prompto makes a noise that is most definitely a whine.

“Have I offended?” Ignis wonders, brushing the torn sides of the tank top apart. Prompto scowls up at him, and Ignis clicks his tongue. “You wipe that look off of your face.”

“Ooorrrr…?”

“Or I shall assume you’re simply not in the mood, and I’ll handle my business in the bathroom.” He starts to rise onto his knees, as if to get up and do just that.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Prompto spits out in a rush, and Ignis pauses, and then sits back down. “We don’t need to do anything  _drastic_  now.”

Ignis rolls his eyes fondly, but he makes no further efforts to get up, so Prompto counts it as a win. He tips his head eagerly when Ignis leans down for a kiss that starts as more bite than anything, before steadily softening.

Prompto lifts his head to lean insistently into the kiss—or rather, he tries to. He comes up short when he feels a prick at one of his collarbones. Not enough to hurt. Certainly not enough to draw blood. Yet.

The kiss breaks as Ignis leans back, and he trails kisses along Prompto’s jaw, until he’s close enough to murmur, “I would stay still, were I you,” into Prompto’s ear. He taps the flat of the blade against Prompto’s collarbone. “Just a suggestion.” He gets another whine in return.

After a final nip to Prompto’s earlobe, Ignis sits up, lifting one hand to tug his glove off with his teeth so he doesn’t need to relinquish his hold on his knife. His glove lands on Prompto’s chest, and with his hand bare, Ignis switches the hand he’s holding the blade in and tugs off his other glove.

Prompto’s pants are too tight, and he knows Ignis can tell, and the gentle rumble of laughter that he feels more than he hears confirms it. His hands fist in the blanket and he darts a glance towards the door. Ignis turns his head just enough to follow Prompto’s gaze, free hand settling on Prompto’s chest.

“They won’t be back for some time yet,” he points out mildly, looking downwards once again. “Will that be a problem?” he wonders, and that tiny smile is back.

Prompto gets to shake his head once before he recalls the knife’s existence, and he stills once again. “Definitely not.”

Ignis’s smile is spreading slowly, and Prompto knows all at once what sort of an evening he’s in for.


	39. lunoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in a world where neither of them died...Noct still got speared through the middle and required a lengthy recovery period
> 
> Characters: Luna, Noctis  
> Pairings: Luna/Noctis  
> Rating: G  
> Prompt: Still a present

“This is stupid.”

Noctis was not sulking.

No, really. He wasn’t.

Luna sighed and rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. “It is not.”

“It—“

“Aren’t you the one who said you didn’t want to be in a wheelchair for your first council meeting?” she wondered, her tone perfectly innocent and very carefully crafted as she asked.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“And I know you aren’t just trying to put off calling the council together,” she carried on, her eyes wide and doe-like as she looked at him, clasping her hands together in front of herself.

Noctis cleared his throat and looked past her at the corner of the wall, his face heating. “…Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then it sounds like you’ve decided,” Luna returned brightly, her smile turning beaming bright.

Noctis was silent at first, glowering at the pair of canes. It took a moment before he grumbled lowly, mostly to himself, “At least they aren’t a walker.”

Luna’s expression gentled and she reached out, cupping his cheek with one hand. “You are their king, Noctis,” she reminded him. “Your hardships were for their benefit. No one is going to look down on you.”

Noctis nodded slowly in acknowledgement, though his gaze drifted down to the floor, and he fiddled absentmindedly with one of the canes’ wristbands. “Right.”

“None but you,” Luna acknowledged. “You’ve no reason to be embarrassed, though.”

He darted a glance at her, letting the canes sag against his lap. He offered a smile, crooked and sheepish, and dragged a hand through his hair. “Right,” he agreed again, though with a bit more feeling behind it that time. “It’s just…an adjustment,” he sighed, though his smile turned more honest at the end.

“You just need to work on making a good first impression,” Luna decided, cupping his chin. “You can start by shaving this off.”

Noctis leaned his head back, out of her hand, and feigned a pout. “I feel like you have an ulterior motive for saying that.”

Luna drew her hand to her chest, aghast. “I would never.”


	40. au ardynoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More with Astral!Ardyn, yaaaaay
> 
> Characters: Ardyn, Noctis  
> Pairing: Ardyn/Noct  
> Warnings: Manipulation  
> Rating: T  
> Prompt: A Christmas present

It is Ardyn who tells him of his eventual fate, when he decides Noctis is not taking Ardyn’s efforts to guide him away from Bahamut quite  _seriously_  enough.

He gets no response, and he leaves in exasperation shortly after.

Two days later, Noctis is gone. Bolted in the night, leaving his friends to frantically search for him.

Ardyn’s methods are slightly more effective.

He finds Noctis in the tomb of one of his ancestors, staring silently down at the casket, hands skating carefully along the edges of it without touching the weapon.

“How courageous.” Ardyn’s voice seems to echo at first, and then he appears, and for just a split second his eyes are glowing disks of amber in sunken black pits and his teeth are too sharp and he’s seeping black sickness from his mouth and nose and eyes. His features are twisted with outrage and his voice is a low, grating snarl.

An instant later, he is simply Ardyn again, looking mildly displeased and sounding merely irritated as he carries on. “Running away when things aren’t going your way. A grand king indeed shall you be.”

Noctis stares at him placidly, expression blank, and Ardyn almost seems to falter for half a moment when he doesn’t get the reaction he’s looking for. Almost, but not quite.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

“Even if I was actually supposed to be king, we both know I wouldn’t have been  _grand_ ,” Noctis reasons levelly. “It’s not really a ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ sort of job, but that’s pretty much what I would be doing.” His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. “But you already know that, don’t you? You haven’t told me anything, either.”

The tomb seems to grow colder then, as Ardyn’s anger coils like a viper.

This boy belongs to him. Ardyn has  _saved_ him.  _Spared_  him.  _Gifted_  him. His leash may as well be infinite for how far Ardyn allows it to stretch.

_And this is his thanks?_

He hasn’t the right. This boy is a  _toy_. A favored one, but a toy nonetheless. And he has forgotten his place.

Ardyn towers over him, and even as Ardyn bends, Noctis still needs to stand on his toes as the Alterplexian hauls him upwards by his jacket to crush their mouths together. Noctis’s mouth remains slack beneath the god’s, and Ardyn withdraws in disgust only a moment later.

“I expected more of you,” Ardyn remarks, his tone carefully detached.

Noctis flinches, gaze falling to the ground, until his hands slowly clench into fists at his sides and he looks back up. “Everyone is. But no one will just tell me what they’re expecting until I start making it difficult.” He scoffs out a sound that is…not quite a laugh, far too bitter and devoid of any mirth. “So you know what? Yeah. Doing nothing sounds like my best bet. At least then I know what I’m in for.”

Ardyn comes up short.

It’s an almost surreal feeling, to know that Noctis isn’t listening to him for once, when compared to the way he usually jumps at Ardyn’s word.

But no one’s faith is unbreakable; one can always be pushed too far. It is a lesson Ardyn has…not forgotten, but perhaps disregarded.

He steps close, forcing Noctis to crane his head back to look up as Ardyn cups his chin carefully. Noctis remains still, but warily so, as Ardyn searches his face. The god doesn’t bother to let go as he muses, “Everyone has some sort of purpose in mind for you.” He leans down, until they’re nose-to-nose, lips brushing slightly as he nearly purrs, “Would you like to know mine?”

Already Noctis is softening, lifting his hands to cling to Ardyn’s coat. The Alterplexian has won already and he knows it.


	41. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Ignis I roleplay acquired a pair of puppies after the dawn
> 
> Characters: Prompto, Ignis  
> Pairings: None  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: A present

When Ignis opened the door, he looked quietly confused, and after a moment of silence, he wondered expectantly, “…Hello?”

Prompto cleared his throat and shook his head. “Heyyy, Igs,” he greeted, voice only slightly unsteady.

Ignis’s confusion shifted to concern in a heartbeat, and he stepped aside to let Prompto through the door. He didn’t ask any questions as Prompto shuffled past him until he could set his camera down on the coffee table, and he sank to his knees on the floor. Saffron and Pandora were already peering at him curiously from the other side of the table, and he patted the floor until they both slunk over to investigate.

By the time he was bundling both puppies into his lap, Ignis was crouching beside him, wondering, “Did something happen?”

“You, uh—“ Prompto cleared his throat again. “You heard about the meteor shower, right?” He waited just long enough to see Ignis nod once. “Right, see, I went to get some pictures, and it was going great, and then…” He snorted and shook his head. “And then all I could think was ‘wow, he’d have loved this,’ and next thing I know I’m bawling like a baby in the middle of an empty field.”

Ignis drew in a slightly strangled breath, and for a second Prompto almost wished he had gone somewhere else. This couldn’t have been fair to Ignis. But the moment passed, and Ignis’s hand landed on the back of Prompto’s neck, squeezing comfortingly.

“I miss him, too.”

Prompto didn’t know if Ignis had ever actually said it. He suspected the answer was  _no_. At least that was what he got from how much the quiet admission weighed.

“So, uh.” Prompto pulled Saffron-with-the-studded-collar closer to his chest. “Just gonna borrow your puppies for a while.”

“Of course.”

They lapsed into silence after that, melancholic but companionable all the same. The puppies fell asleep eventually, Saffron snoring in Prompto’s ear like a miniature train whistle.

“You know,” Ignis began slowly…some amount of time later (ten minutes? an hour? who was keeping track?), “I have most of a bottle of wine in the kitchen. I had intended to use it for cooking, so it’s not very  _good_ , but…”

Hands full with puppies, Prompto instead leaned over to bonk his head against Ignis’s shoulder. “Igster, you are my favorite person right now.”

Ignis smiled just slightly as he got to his feet. “I’ll go find us a pair of glasses.”


	42. gladnis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the fluffiest thing I have ever written
> 
> Characters: Gladio, Ignis, Iris  
> Pairing: Gladio/Ignis  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: Also a present

It is two in the morning when the storm starts, and Gladio wakes up with a snort and a jerk when the thunder starts rattling the windows. He falls still very quickly, though, as he realizes that the weight on his lap is, in fact, Ignis, who is actually  _sleeping_  for a change. Who would have thought the Amicitia couch would be the thing to knock him out.

There’s a flash of lightning that lights the room in magnesium white, and the thunder that follows near instantaneously seems like it wants to shake the house down.

Ignis makes a snuffling noise in his sleep and begins to stir, and Gladio starts petting a hand through his hair until he settles back down. Ignis tucks his arms closer to his chest and nuzzles his cheek against Gladio’s thigh, glasses askew. Carefully, Gladio plucks the frames from the bridge of his nose and sets them on the side table, before he resumes running his fingers through Ignis’s hair.

Gladio watches the storm for a while, until he begins nodding off again once again, his chin slowly dipping towards his chest again.

He doesn’t remember falling back to sleep, but when he wakes back up, he’s been rearranged on the couch until he’s actually laying down and a blanket’s been thrown over him. He still has a crick in his neck despite those efforts, and he tries to stretch it out as he tosses the blanket aside and gets to his feet, following the sound of voices into the kitchen.

Iris is sitting at the island on a stool that someone had to have lifted her onto, and between bites of scrambled eggs and toast, she’s regaling Ignis with a tale of the boy she terrified in school as Ignis finishes plating a pair of omelets.

“How long have you been up?” Gladio wonders, still groggy, as he takes a seat at the island. He blinks at the plate that’s placed in front of him.

“Since your father left,” Ignis replies. He seems content to leave it at that, but Iris has other plans in mind.

“He says Dad’s about as quiet as a drunk garrula in the morning,” she informs Gladio cheerfully.

“ _Iris_ ,” Ignis scolds, with a hint of a  _whine_  in his tone, and Iris claps her hands over her mouth to ineffectually mask her laughter.

Gladio is grinning by then, the last dregs of grogginess fading. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

Finally, Ignis settles in to eat, leaning on the opposite side of the island. He points his fork at Iris, tone turning faintly accusing as he says, “Blabbermouth.”

Iris sticks her tongue out, and she looks like she’s about half a second away from flinging a forkful of eggs across the island until Gladio gives her a warning look.

“Why am I the only adult here?” Gladio grumbles good-naturedly, leaning on one elbow.

“Gladio, dear,” Ignis returns patiently, “at the moment you are the only legal adult here.”

Gladio groans and flips him off.


	43. au-ish promtis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, one of the AUs I sometimes play with involves the Carnival being the afterlife and Noct can dream walk to talk to people who aren't yet dead
> 
> Characters: Noctis, Prompto  
> Pairing: Noctis/Prompto  
> Warning: Afterlife, mentioned character death  
> Rating: T  
> Prompt: Another present

The carnival is in full swing, full of music and laughter and the squawking of chocobos, and everything is lit up as if it’s trying to rival the stars in the sky. Personally, Prompto doubts they’ll succeed, but they give it an honest effort anyway.

Prompto’s camera is probably full, between the pictures of Noct petting and feeding the chocobos, riding the chocobos, playing the games, and posing with anything and everything that looks vaguely interesting. There is a picture of Noct being hugged by a chocobo mascot. There is even a picture of Noct shoving his hand against the lens.

But eventually, they wind up on a dock. The lights and the sound of the carnival are still apparent, but they have some semblance of privacy, as no one else seems to be using the dock.

They’re sitting at the edge of it, and Prompto is going to ask if Noct’s going to fish—just to poke a bit of fun—but he never gets the chance before Noct has him on his back, straddling his middle. Prompto blinks up at him, marveling at his abrupt change of elevation, and Noct grins and captures Prompto’s hands. He laces their fingers together and leans forward, pinning Prompto’s hands to the dock on either side of his head.

“Really? Right here?” Prompto wonders dryly.

Noct shrugs one shoulder, unconcerned. “No one’s looking,” he reasons, and Prompto snorts out a laugh. Noct ducks his head, back arching, and his and Prompto’s lips fit together just as always.

It’s hurried for only a moment, before Noct tips his head and bears more of his weight downwards, and the kiss turns slow, nearly exploratory, with a strange current of urgency laced through it until it seems as if he’s trying to breathe Prompto in, like he might suffocate otherwise.

It’s not until truly breathing becomes a necessity that Prompto pants, “Hey—hey, what’s going on?”

“God, I just—I never thought I’d get to do anything like this again,” Noct sighs when they part, his forehead thumping down against Prompto’s shoulder.

Prompto wants to ask  _why_ , lips parting around the word, but nothing escapes. He goes rigid as a thought occurs to him. Noct is still relaxed, though, and he squeezes Prompto’s hands. Prompto’s thoughts race, but even in his distraction, he squeezes back.

Noct sits up finally, still straddling Prompto’s middle but releasing his hands at last, and he’s watching Prompto’s face expectantly.

Prompto remembers a span of years, dark and bleak and violent, and he remembers a sword speared straight through an unmoving chest.

_Walk tall_

Prompto remembers that this is  _wrong_.

In a flash, everything is different. The carnival is still going on around them, but they are older. Tired. More weighed down.

Prompto knew this older version of Noct for barely a day, and in his mind, when he thinks of Noct, he still sees a twenty-year-old with some hope for the future. But even so, he’s still  _Noct_ , evident in the way his smile is more just a softening of his eyes and the sardonic twist that just barely quirks one corner of his lips.

Prompto reaches for him, hesitating for hardly a second he cups Noct’s face. He’s silent at first, staring with wide eyes as his fingertips brush over Noct’s cheek, until finally he manages, again, “What’s going on?”

The corners of Noct’s eyes crinkle slightly as a true smile creeps into place. “You’re asleep,” he explains, lifting a hand to take hold of one of Prompto’s again. “Dreaming.”

“And you…?” Prompto asks slowly, not even daring to hope.

“Still dead,” Noct replies wryly, as if it’s some sort of joke, and Prompto feels like he’s been punched in the chest. “The rules are just…different here,” Noct carries on, looking around before he pauses to shove his hair out of his face.

“But how—“

“Prompto,” Noct cuts him off, leaning down again to bump their noses together before leaning back. “I don’t know when or if you’ll be able to come back, or when you’re going to wake up. Do you really want to waste time trying to figure out how  _dream logic_  works?”

Prompto searches his face for a moment, before he surges up, arms wrapping tight around the back of his shoulders, in an embrace that very nearly crushes the air out of both of their lungs. With one hand on the dock to hold them up, Noct wraps his other arm around Prompto’s back and buries his face against the blond’s neck.

There’s no telling how long they have, but it doesn’t really matter. The answer is ‘not long enough’ regardless.


	44. ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Noctis, Ignis. Gladio and Prompto briefly appear.  
> Pairing: Noctis/Ignis  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: A present, and all the song Across The Sea

Camp was quiet that night, save for the sounds of the chairs shifting occasionally. No one said a word, and with his back to them, Noctis wasn’t sure what the others were doing as he sat at the edge of the haven, legs dangling down while he stared at the sky.

There were no stars. Apparently he wasn’t even allowed that little before he threw himself upon his own sword.

He didn’t bother looking back when he heard one of the camp chairs slide a few inches across the ground, or when he heard footsteps behind him. A moment later, Ignis’s hand brushed across the backs of his shoulders and his advisor sat down beside him on his right, their thighs pressed together.

Gladio cleared his throat rather pointedly and got to his feet, followed by the sound of the tent flap opening and falling closed as he shuffled inside. Just a few seconds later, Prompto stammered out a few half-formed syllables before deciding that his ‘good night’ was not required and scuttling into the tent himself.

Noctis leaned his head against Ignis’s shoulder.

It seemed like hours passed before Ignis wondered softly, “Are you scared?”

It wasn’t a pleasant topic. It wasn’t a funny question. And yet Noctis found himself sighing out a breath of laughter. “Little bit,” he answered, his left shoulder lifting in a halfhearted shrug. For a moment, he said nothing else, until he admitted quietly, “I don’t want to die.”

Ignis turned just enough to duck his face against Noctis’s hair, and for a time the camp was silent, save for the fire still crackling as it steadily burned its way down to embers.

“Leave with me.”

The words were so quiet Noctis almost thought he was hearing things.

“…What?”

“Come with me.” Ignis leaned away just enough for Noctis to turn and see his face. “You didn’t make this mess. The gods did, and then decided to simply wait two thousand years for someone to sweep up after them. If they need a human to scold them and tell them to pick up their toys that desperately, they can wait for another one.”

“Ignis, I can’t—“

Ignis shifted to the side, twisting as he did, straddling Noctis’s lap in an instant, so they were nose to nose with each other, and Noctis closed his mouth with a click.

“I have been waiting for you to come back for ten years,” Ignis stated, voice low. “And here you are. If you think that I will content myself with less than a day and then stand idly by while you swan off to build your own funeral pyre, then you’re far more of an idiot than I ever gave you credit for.”

Noctis huffed out a laugh and let his head tip forward against Ignis’s shoulder, and Ignis trailed a hand up his arm and the side of his neck, until he could cup the back of Noctis’s head. “Leave with me,” he coaxed again, voice gentle. “You don’t owe anyone your  _life_ , Noctis, and the people are resilient enough to carry on.”

Noctis was silent as he took Ignis’s free hand, absentmindedly curling and straightening the long fingers as his thoughts raced. He could feel the outline of a familiar ring beneath the glove, and he looked down at its twin on his own hand.

Slowly, he released Ignis’s hand, to instead cup Ignis’s face in both hands, cradling either side of his jaw. It was slow when they kissed. They had far too much time to make up for.

They hardly moved once they parted, still close enough that their lips brushed as Noctis asked, “Where are we going?”


	45. au-ish pre-ignoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, we had a roleplay verse that we were just calling 'new game +' where the events of the game happened, and then they were reborn to repeat their lives just as before, but with hazy, deja vu-ish recollections of what happened before
> 
> Characters: Ignis, Noctis  
> Pairing: Pre-Ignoct, based on previously established Ignoct  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: Still a Christmas present

It was two in the morning when Noctis stumbled out of his bed and tripped his way towards the door. Someone pounding on it like a crazed rhinoceros had woken him up, though by the time he got to the door, the pounding had turned into what sounded like someone scrabbling at the lock with a key.

Noctis had a key to his own apartment, of course. Other than him, Ignis and Gladio had keys. His father had a key. A few members of the crownsguard had keys. So regardless of who was at the door, it probably didn’t mean anything good.

He flipped the deadbolt and yanked the door open, and Ignis stumbled past the threshold, key still in hand. He was still wearing the sweatshirt he sometimes slept in and he had hastily pulled on a pair of jeans. And he was shaking.

His eyes searched Noctis’s face for a moment before he reached up, cupping Noctis’s face in both hands before turning it, first to one side and then to the other. Checking to make sure he was alright, though for what reason, Noctis had no idea.

“Ignis?” Noctis finally managed, bewildered, as he tugged his head back, out of Ignis’s hands.

Ignis’s hands hovered in the air for a moment, like he hadn’t the slightest idea of what he was supposed to do with them just then, before they lowered enough to clench in the fabric of Noctis’s sleeves.

He slumped forward, still trembling as his forehead came to rest against Noctis’s shoulder.

Noctis’s hands came up to cup the back of Ignis’s head automatically, as if it was a well-established habit. “Easy, Specs,” he murmured with bemused concerned. “In two three, out two three,” he coached. “Just like you told me.”

Ignis’s breathing picked up, and it took Noctis a moment to realize he was  _laughing_.

“I’ve never told you anything like that, Noct,” he informed Noctis’s shirt.

Noctis came up short, mouth opening to reply only to close again with a click as he realized he couldn’t actually remember  _when_  Ignis gave him that advice, only that he was positive that it had come from Ignis.

“But—“

“Something is going on, Noct,” Ignis stated, beginning to slowly straighten back up. Finally, he stepped the rest of the way inside and let the door close. “Or has been going on for quite some time, I suspect.”

Noctis tipped his head to one side, and finally he asked, “Ignis, what are you doing here?”

And Ignis told him of the dream he had, of walking through a throne room that smelled of rot and corpses, and of pulling a sword from his king’s chest and not being able to forget the  _sound_  it made.

“The day was saved, quite literally,” he stated at the end, voice low and his gaze caught somewhere just past Noctis’s shoulder before sliding back to his face. “And you were Bahamut’s tithe to save it.”

As he spoke, Ignis let go of Noctis’s arms with a startled jerk, as if he had forgotten what his hands were doing entirely.

At the end, Noctis wanted to feel…surprised? Incredulous? He wanted to roll his eyes and say that it was just a bad dream. But mostly he felt resigned, and an exhaustion that settled over him like too many years. But the feeling passed quickly.

Something was going on. In the way Ignis’s words felt true, and the way Prompto and Noctis had connected like long lost brothers the instant they ran into each other. In Luna’s periodic frustration in her notes, and in the way he and Gladio trained together like a well-oiled machine nearly from the first moment.

In the way Noctis had always known his father was hiding something from him, and how Ignis’s nightmare brought it startlingly to mind.

_Something_  was going on, and it wasn’t good. Or… _hadn’t_  been good? He couldn’t quite quantify the feeling.

Noctis began backing towards the couch, catching the end of Ignis’s sleeve to pull him along, too.

“So what’s going on?” Noctis asked as they settled on the couch, side by side with their shoulders pressed together. “You’re going to be my advisor eventually. Advise me.”

“This is a touch beyond my experience, Highness,” Ignis returned wryly. “I would ask Carbuncle, if I were you.”

Noctis hummed thoughtfully in reply, gaze drifting to the window. Even in the dead of the night, he could hear traffic. Eventually, Ignis’s weight against his shoulder began to get heavier.

“Let’s leave,” Noctis suggested suddenly, tearing his gaze away from the window. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was pretty sure it was only a few minutes.

Ignis blinked up at him as if he had been falling asleep. “Pardon?” he asked, voice slightly groggy.

“You. Me. Prompto and Gladio. We could just…go,” Noctis mused, and he let his head fall back against the couch cushion, watching light shift across the ceiling. “Just say ‘fuck it’ and leave.”

Ignis was quiet for a few moments, until eventually he asked, “Where would we go?”

Noctis shrugged one shoulder. “Hadn’t really gotten that far,” he admitted, not particularly troubled by the lacking information.

They lapsed into silence again. Noctis was nearly asleep when Ignis observed quietly, “I’ve heard lovely things about Altissia.”


	46. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tya belongs to my friend [Vix](https://ashxfallen.tumblr.com), also known as [Tyamizuki](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyamizuki/works). She and Noct are a pair of argumentative piss-babies if they're within spitting distance of each other, but occasionally they find something like common ground.
> 
> Characters: Noctis, original character  
> Pairing: None  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: A Christmas present

“I do not understand.”

Noctis hardly even glances up from his seat at the edge of the haven. “Which part?” He’s staring off in Insomnia’s direction, though it’s invisible in the darkness.

“Why you are bringing me,” Tya elaborates. “It makes no sense and I don’t understand.”

Finally, he spares her a glance, leaning back on one hand as he does so he can look up at her as she stands behind him. “You followed us through Hell and high water already,” he points out, one eyebrow arching. “It’d feel weird if you weren’t there for the final stretch.”

“We do not like each other,” she reminds him, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “Ten years hasn’t changed that.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

“No.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his attention back towards Insomnia’s direction. “We don’t like each other,” he agrees after a moment. “But I never really had to worry about what you might do while we were on the road. And right now, ‘reliable’ is more important than ‘likable.’” One shoulder lifts in a careless shrug. “I mean, I’m going to be dead by the end of the night regardless, but I’d rather it not happen at a, uh…an inopportune moment.”

Tya falls oddly silent after that, and Noctis assumes the conversation is over. Until, eventually, Tya observes in a low voice, “It’s not right.”

“Hm?” He tips his head back to look at her again.

“Your gods. You have done all they’ve asked of you. And now they ask for your life.” Her nose wrinkles in distaste as she speaks. “From anyone else, it would be betrayal. And yet it isn’t here?”

Noctis opens his mouth to reply, to say that it’s  _different_  in this situation, but he can’t quite think of why it’s different, and he closes his mouth. It takes a moment to reply, and he has no such denial when he does, instead simply wondering, “Isn’t it betrayal if I don’t play my part and let people have sunlight again?”

“I don’t think it works that way,” is all she offers in response, before she turns to head back to the fire. The simple sentence feels more like a punch in the sternum.


	47. gen fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tya and Ignis get along much better than Tya and Noctis
> 
> Characters: Ignis, original character. Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto mentioned.  
> Pairing: None  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: THE LAST OF THE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. Or the last of the relevant ones, at any rate.

Ignis swears there is a vein pulsing in his temple, and he can feel each beat of his heart in the way his head throbs. His grip on his coffee mug has gone white-knuckled, and when he yanks his gaze away from the half full contents, it turns out he’s been staring blankly in the mug’s depths for nearly ten minutes. Possibly without even blinking.

He glances up, and Gladio is giving him  _that look_  from across the fire pit. But Ignis doesn’t really have the capacity to deal with  _that look_  just now so he looks away, gaze instead settling on his current problem, as Noctis and Prompto appear to be playing something like cops and robbers with Prompto’s camera and one of his guns. They’re laughing and shouting at each other, and Ignis is thrilled to hear them enjoying themselves, truly he is, but he has also been awake for two days and would like to tape their mouths shut because his head feels like it is being split in two with a blunt spoon.

He’s been staring blankly into his coffee for another five minutes. It is definitely cold by now. He could dump it out, but holding onto it gives him something to do with his hands.

He glances up again, pointedly ignoring Gladio, as Tya makes her way over to Prompto, tapping his shoulder and startling him into fumbling his gun. It falls from his hand and vanishes before it can hit the ground and he whips around to face her. Noct scowls at the side of her head and may as well not even be there.

Ignis can’t quite focus on what they’re saying, but Tya points at Prompto’s camera in Noct’s hands, and Prompto nods rapidly. A moment later, the camera is in Tya’s hand and she returns to her chair, looking at the screen intently. With half of their fun gone, Prompto and Noct at last settle down for a game of King’s Knight.

Slowly, Ignis looks at Tya as she browses through pictures on the camera, only some of her attention on them. When Ignis wonders, “Looking for something in particular?” Tya simply shakes her head.

“No,” she answers easily, lowering the camera to her lap, though she continues to click through the day’s various photos. “But they are quiet now.”

They are. Blessedly so. Ignis’s head is still throbbing, but it feels less like it’s actively trying to break into pieces. “You’re my favorite person, occasionally,” he informs her earnestly, his grip on his mug relaxing in increments, until it feels less like he might accidentally dent the sides.

Tya nods, evidently finding that to be a perfectly reasonable response, before she looks back down at the camera’s tiny screen.


	48. au gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more from the AU where Noct is around during the World of Ruin, but without magic and with the knowledge of his looming expiration date!
> 
> Characters: Noctis, Gladio  
> Pairing: None  
> Rating: PG  
> Prompt: 'Things you said under your breath'

For the time being, they’re stuck. They’ve managed to get the call out at least–other hunters know where they are–but it will probably be morning before anyone makes it to them to clear the debris.

Gladio is a veritable furnace more often than not, so he doesn’t make a fuss about anything, but simply tucks Noctis close to his side. The prince grumbles to himself at first, but he makes no moves to extricate himself. It gets cold quickly without the sun; it’s really the only way to tell when it’s actually  _night_.

Gladio curls an arm around Noctis’s shoulders to keep him close and closes his eyes, though sleep doesn’t find him. It’s not exactly the most comfortable of accommodations, after all; he’s pretty sure he’s got a rock jabbing him in the ass. He’s assuming Noct is having no such difficulties, if only because Noct would rather be asleep nine times out of ten. (The trend’s gotten a bit more…worryingly persistent than it used to be, but Gladio supposes that makes sense  _now_.)

He’s proven wrong when Noct starts speaking, his voice low enough that Gladio almost doesn’t catch it.

“Not like I didn’t  _want_  to tell anyone, but–” He pauses, and there’s a slow, worldweary sigh. “I can’t be the dead man walking, Gladio. And they can’t know their king amounts to little more than a poker chip.”

Gladio grouses discontentedly at the comparison, and Noctis sighs again.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, voice lighter. “‘Go to sleep.’ I got it. Just…wake me if the world starts ending or whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this and the rest of my writing, maybe consider clicking [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?


	49. gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ignis, Prompto, Noctis  
> Pairing: None  
> Rating: G  
> Prompt: Four times Ignis got the wrong impression of Prompto, and one time he didn't

Prompto has been…lurking…for the better part of ten minutes. He’s not in the way. He’s not interrupting. He’s just…watching as Ignis cooks dinner. Very intently. To the point that the attention is sort of starting to grate.

“Can I help you?”

Prompto nearly jumps out of his skin and makes a noise comically close to a squeak when Ignis finally dares to break the silence.

“Wha–uh, no, sorry, I–never mind.” Prompto babbles quickly for a moment before he turns and slopes away, presumably to go hide behind Noctis because he’s been afraid that Ignis might eat him since day one.

On the whole, Ignis can’t decide if it was an incredibly inept attempt to waste his time or if he’s simply finally run into someone even more awkward than he is. He doesn’t dwell on it for long.

*

“Uh, hang on a sec, I’ll be out in a minute.” Noctis sounds distracted already as he disappears into his room, and he doesn’t wait for a response before he leaves Ignis and Prompto alone together.

There is silence. Not a particularly comfortable sort of silence. Eventually, Prompto wonders haltingly, “Sooooo…known Noct for a while?”

“Some time, yes,” Ignis replies dryly, leaning on the counter.

“Nice,” Prompto acknowledges, nodding absentmindedly. “I kinda met him when we were younger but–eh, I was shy, you know how it goes, but then, well, some stuff happened and I decided to actually give the whole friends thing a try, even if I dunno what I really have to offer to  _royalty_ …”

Ignis’s contribution is, evidently, rather unnecessary to this conversation.

“But, I mean,” Prompto carries on blithely, and Ignis drums his fingers on the countertop, “everyone needs someone to sort of pull them away from the…everything.” Prompto’s nose wrinkles, as if that wasn’t quite how he wanted it to sound. “To keep his head above water,” he tries again, before he breaks into a sheepish grin. “Figure it’s the least I can do.”

Ignis’s fingers stop drumming, his hand instead curling into a fist for an instant until flattening on the countertop. Of course. Because he hasn’t been Noct’s best friend since they were children. Because of course Noctis has never had someone to help keep his head above water. Ignis is such a nag, after all. Such a stick in the mud. How could that role ever fall to him? Of course.

Prompto is still talking, and Ignis hasn’t heard a word coming out of his mouth. He straightens up, pushing himself away from the counter, and his voice comes out carefully even as he says, “My apologies, but I’ve just remembered something I forgot to do.” He’s walking towards the door already as he asks, “Could you let Noctis know?”

Ignis can just barely hear, “Uh, yeah, sure. Bye?” before the door closes.

*

Ignis sits on the hood of the car, fingers drumming against the metal, his other hand holding his phone as it rings. He’s about ready to give it up as a lost cause when, at last, Noctis picks up.

“ _Heyyyyy, Specs.”_

Oh, yes, he already knows he’s in trouble. Ignis finds that slightly gratifying.

“Your Highness,” he greets pleasantly. “If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, care to tell me where you are? Because I showed up to pick you up at school, oh, thirty minutes ago, and lo and behold, you failed to make an appearance.”

In response, he can hear a stream of reluctant mumbling.

“Your Highness,” he sighs, with near saintly patience, “I don’t speak gremlin.”

He can just barely hear a bark of laughter in the background, and yes, he recognizes that voice. His irritation is probably irrational. If Noctis wants to skip school, then that’s what is going to happen. But it still sounds as if Prompto did nothing to discourage the decision.

“ _We’re at the arcade,”_ Noctis sighs, so aggrieved, as if he has anything to be annoyed about.

“Of course you are,” Ignis scoffs under his breath before moving on. “Perhaps a text wouldn’t go amiss next time? So I don’t waste the gas. I’ll let Cor know to expect a message from you when you’re ready to leave.”

“ _Aw, Ignis, c’mon, don’t pou–”_

Ignis taps his phone to end the call.

*

Prompto’s opinion that Ignis will eat him if they ever make direct contact doesn’t seem to have lessened, but to his credit, he does at least try to pretend Ignis doesn’t blatantly scare him shitless. Ignis can respect that sort of resolve. He would respect it slightly more if those attempts at bravery didn’t so frequently result in games of Twenty Questions.

And to be fair, he doesn’t always mind. Sometimes it’s nice for someone to at least think Ignis is a  _little_  impressive.

And sometimes it happens when Ignis is trying to work.

“But what if–”

“Prompto.”

Prompto closes his mouth with a snap.

Ignis pushes his glasses halfway up his forehead as he knuckles at the corners of his eyes with two fingers. The frames settle back into place a moment later. “I’m trying to work.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Ignis ducks his attention back to his tablet, but Prompto is giving him a  _look_ still, like he very clearly wants to say something. With a slow sigh, Ignis asks, “Yes?”

“D’you ever, like…take a break?”

Ignis arches one eyebrow, and Prompto hurries onwards. “Just, I mean, it seems like every time I see you you’re on the clock for Noct?”

Ignis taps his stylus against the side of his tablet. “My duties not withstanding, His Highness does not actually control my entire life.”

“No no no, I know! Just–”

“Prompto.”

“…Right. Working.”

Prompto shrinks back in his seat as he falls quiet.

*

When Ignis pulls the car to a halt in front of the school, he expects to find Noctis waiting for him, like any other day.

Instead, he finds Prompto, fidgeting on the sidewalk and shifting his backpack on his shoulders. He looks around and practically creeps over to the car, and with a sigh, Ignis lowers the passenger side window as Prompto gets to the car.

“Heeey, uh–Noct needs a hand? I mean he told me he could handle it and I should just get going but I kinda hung around and I didn’t see him and I still didn’t see him and I knew you’d be showing up soon and  _I_  can’t punch anyone on campus or I’ll get expelled and I figure that goes for Noct too, but  _you_  aren’t a student here and you’re better at scaring people off  _anyway_ even without an assault charge and…”

“Prom–Prompto–Pro– _Mr. Argentum_.”

It isn’t until Ignis’s voice sharpens that Prompto stops rambling and closes his mouth with an abrupt click.

“Who are you not punching?”

Prompto points loosely over his shoulder, back towards the main school building. “Uh–camera people. Like, four?”

“They aren’t even supposed to be allowed on campus,” Ignis grouses, turning the key to cut the engine.

“They probably–there were people interviewing the swim team earlier? So I think they snuck in with the actual reporters.” Prompto explains as Ignis gets out of the car.

Ignis nods slowly, the motion slightly distracted. He supposes he’s going to have to report this. But he can worry about that later.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Lead the way, Mr. Argentum. I assume you’ll want to watch me put the fear of the Six into them.”

Prompto grins, beaming bright, and starts loping into motion. “You know it!”


End file.
